Bend in the Wind
by Iluvien
Summary: Complete Campanion story of "To Dream". Elrohir struggles with his belief that Nessule is perfect in her independece, strong and free as the wind, and that she cannot be captured by a lover's embrace. Ch14: Love... NoSlashProfanity
1. An Unexpected Letter

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Tolkien's literary work. I only claim ownership of those unique characters/concepts which I have created (Nessúlë, Oloriel, Lantél, the Merendë Enyalië, etc.) and partial control in the fanfiction universe of those names/word-combinations which I have created using Tolkien's languages.

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

**A/N:** This is a companion story of "To Dream". While it is not necessary that you read that first, you may enjoy it and it will give you some good background on Elrohir and Nessúlë and their rather confusing friendship.

Note on Sindarin Vocabularly... For Those Who Care: I am going to change a norm that I established in my first story. It has to do with the pronoun you: "le/-l". I learned from one source during the writing of "To Dream" that this form of you was formal, and that informally the pronoun was "chin/-ch" which I am pretty sure I heard used once in TTT the movie. I have also read one source which said that the difference between the two forms is number, not formality (chin – singular, le – plural). shrugs . Anyway, while I am still fuzzy on how "le" fits into all this, I am convinced of the proper use of "chin/-ch". I kept using "le-/l" in "To Dream" because that's what everyone is familiar with mostly. But, now that I'm starting a new story, I have decided to start using the pronouns (more) properly. You have been warned. = ) 

Chapter 1.) An Unexpected Letter

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_No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets…_

- Thomas Moore

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June 13, 12 Fourth Age

Elrohir stretched out his cramped fingers as he stood up from the intricately carved chair and moved out from behind his father's large desk. Having sailed into the West twelve years before, his father had left the imposing piece of furniture in Imladris, and it had fallen to Elrohir's possession. His elder brother, Elladan, had opted to use some of their mother's furniture, but Elrohir had always been fond of everything in his father's study, the desk in particular. He could still remember seeking refuge underneath it when he and his brother would play hide-and-seek as children.

Moving over to the southern window, and as far away from the paperwork as the walls would allow, Elrohir breathed appreciatively of the fresh air that came wafting through the parted glass panes. He looked ruefully outside and clasped his hands behind his back.

'Just another hour or so and then it will be done,' he muttered to himself, turning away from the window with resolve and walking back to the desk.

Elrohir was not used to these administrative duties. Since Elrond had sailed, he and his brother had taken up lordship of the small haven of Imladris. But Elladan, being newly married in Elven terms, had until now been more than willing to take on the mundane tasks of supervising if it meant spending more time at home with his wife. This left Elrohir free to take a more involved role in the community: sitting as Arbiter in the Counsel, directly overseeing the defense of the city, and even scouting at whiles with the Rangers of Anorien as he had of old. However, things had changed somewhat over the past few months.

In the fall of the previous year, Elladan and his wife Oloriel had announced that they were expecting a child. The news had been received with great joy, for it was only the second child to be born in Imladris since the birth of Elrohir's sister, Arwen Undómiel, hundreds of years before. Elrohir had been, and still, was immensely delighted. The only drawback in his view was the amount of time which Elladan rightly desired to spend with his now visibly pregnant wife. In a moment of familial softness, Elrohir had agreed to delegate more of his duties at the borders and abroad in order to lighten Elladan's load. As he retrieved his worn quill from where he had cast it aside, Elrohir mentally bemoaned his decision. Then, with an impeccably executed look of outward calm, he began once more to scribble a myriad of notes, requests, ordinances, and authorizations.

"""""

Almost two hours past before Elrohir put down his pen for the final time. By the look of the sun it was perhaps five o'clock. To his great relief there was just enough time for a walk in the fragrant gardens. Something about remaining inside for so many hours, even when the room was flooded with the light of the sun and there was a gentle breeze flowing through the window, made his mind uneasy. If he was ever unable to step outside before supper there was generally a good chance that he would be in an ill mood for the rest of the evening.

With significantly lighter steps, Elrohir made his way down several hallways and finally found himself in one of the side courtyards. Spring was beginning to merge with summer there, and the air was filled with a medley of smells and sounds. A broad smile spread across Elrohir's face as he greeted several passing Elves and started to move toward one of his favorite gardens. Unfortunately, his cheerful movements were abruptly stopped when a young hawk landed unceremoniously on his shoulder.

Elrohir turned his head to eye the hawk. "I do not recognize you, youngling. Where can you have come from?"

The bird hopped from Elrohir's shoulder and made a short ascent into the air. Turning its breast toward the Elven lord, it revealed what iswas carrying and then came back to rest on its newly acquired perch.

"Ah, you have a message for me." Elrohir had seen the leather pouch that was strapped to the underbelly of the bird. "Well, if you are going to be a carrier, _penalag_ {impetuous one}, you must learn the proper protocol. Take your message to the aerie on the east side of this hall. Someone will fetch the message from you and deliver it to its rightful owner; then you will find a warm place to house yourself for the night."

Despite Elrohir's prompting, the bird would not leave. Finally Elrohir took the bird on his hand and extracted the letter from the flat leather pouch.

"Very well then. I see that you are impudent as well as impetuous. There, I have taken the letter and see now that it was intended for me. You may take your leave, _penalag_."

For a moment Elrohir thought that he had succeeded in sending the bird off, but after departing from his hand, the hawk merely took up residence once more on Elrohir's shoulder. With a sigh, Elrohir shook his head softly and began to walk again toward the secluded garden.

Once he had arrived in the small sanctuary, Elrohir took up residence on a tall flat stone and began to inspect the letter. The seal looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. Turning it over, he read the direction. It was simply:

_To Elrohir Peredhel, Lord of Imladris From his friend of years past, Nessúlë Ëarwen_

Elladan's entire body froze. He had not seen or heard directly from Nessúlë for quite some time, when she and her brother had visited Imladris three years before. He knew that she wrote to Oloriel on occasion, which is why the wax seal must have sparked his memory, but other than the few times that they had seen each other since the ending of War of the Rings fourteen years before communication between them was almost non-existent. And that was, quite frankly, the way that Elrohir preferred it.

He had been in love with Nessúlë at one time: desperately, ardently in love. And in his heart he knew that there would be no other for him. And yet, he had resigned himself to the fact she would never be his. In his mind, Nessúlë was whole and perfect as she was, unbending and careless as the wind. He had realized, soon after admitting to himself his love for her, that there was no way of capturing a lady like Nessúlë. Such maidens were like the most ethereal paintings – masterpieces of priceless worth, but forever beyond one's reach. They were dreams and visions, never meant to be held in the warm embrace of a lover.

This was the pain that Elrohir always carried with him and which he tried to pack away beneath the other joys of life: his family, his people, the vibrant world around him. However, the few times that he had met with Nessúlë, since the War, had wreaked subtle havoc in his life. In her presence he generally managed to be cheerful and relaxed, for being near her always filled him with a sense of contentment and intoxication. But as soon as they parted, she with a careless friendly farewell and no look back, his heart would echo with emptiness.

Over the past few years Elorhir had believed that this trial was behind him. Life had been very good in Imladris. He was respected and well loved by all the people of the valley, he shared a very affectionate bond with his brother and sister-in-law, and the coming addition of a newborn into their little family circle had seemed like the crowing flower of his comfortable life. But in this one brief moment in the garden, with an audacious hawk turning a curious eye upon him, he knew that he had been fooling himself all along.

Elrohir's hands moved mechanically as he went to open the seal. But then he paused. Perhaps it would be better not to read it. Without thought Elrohir crumpled up the missive and three it several feet away from him, burying his face in his hands.

He should have known that it would be a useless effort. In but a few short moments the hawk had swooped off his shoulder, retrieved the crumpled noted, and deposited it at Elrohir's feet.

The Elf grunted. "Meddler."

The hawk, cocking its head to one side, merely stared at Elrohir until he finally picked up the note and smoothed out the pages.

"I suppose you're right," Elrohir muttered, half to the bird and half to the arguing side of his conscious. "I can't simply not read it. There could be important news."

With a deep breath Elrohir began to peruse the letter. This is what he read:

_11th of June, year 12 of the Fourth Age_

_suilad mellonen_"" {greetings, my friend}_,_

_No doubt you are surprised to receive this small epistle. It has been fourteen years since I made a promise to write to you, and I am sure you despaired of my ever honoring the pledge. I don't know why I haven't until now. Time slips by so quickly that I sometimes wonder how mortals ever accomplish anything. I am forever purposing to do this or that, and not following through until years have slipped by._

_But pardon me, I have shown my thoughtlessness once again. How do you fare? And your family, are they well? I have heard that the lady and other lord of Imladris are expecting a child. Oloriel and Elladan must be so thrilled. It is a good omen in these waning times. (We are all still in the glow here over Írima's child, who grows daily in spirit and wit, despite how terribly we spoil her). Please convey to your brother and sister-in-law my warmest wishes for an uneventful delivery._

_Now that I have such pleasantries out of the way, perhaps you are wondering why I have chosen to write at this time. I must confess, rather shamefacedly, that it was mostly a selfish impulse. As you may have heard, my brother has recently taken a bride. This circumstance has thrown my comfortable little world into confusion. Lantél and I have always shared a deep bond and we have been each other's closest companions these past years. (I gave up being a seamstress for good and joined the Homeguard. I am in Lantél's division). But now that he is monopolized by his wife, a kind sweet little maid, I find I must now stand on my own._

_Now mind you, I am not growing soft in my old age. I have always found independence invigorating, and I suppose I shall take to my new situation quite well by and by. But now that my life _has_ changed so drastically I find myself thinking more and more of friends and places abroad. Your sister-in-law once told me that I do not have the wanderlust, but I do wonder if I am acquiring it. For I am most eager to hear of other places, and am growing equally eager to see them._

_So do write to me, mellon, and tell me how you all have been. It will provide some amusement I am sure, as well as a much-needed distraction. And, if your account lives up to these expectations, I may even deign to visit you all again when my feet start to roam. (I hope you hear the jest in my pompous words). _

_In all seriousness, though, I have thought of journeying to Arnor, to see the restoration which King Elessar has wrought in Annuminas"". And since I will perhaps be abroad, there seems nothing for it but to enter your cloven sanctuary for a time. It has been too long since we last spoke. I look forward to renewing our friendship._

_teithonnen na boronemel_ {written with a faithful heart},__

_ mellonech _{your friend},

_ Nessúle_

_Postscript: I have told Bainsúl to carry back your reply. He would be honored by your commission for he is young and eager to please._

Elrohir sat for some time reading and rereading the letter. He was unsure of what to feel at that moment. Through the casual lines he could almost hear her voice and he was both comforted and agitated by the sensation.

Finally, the last lines of the letter finally registered in Elrohir's mind and he looked up to search for the bird. He smiled wryly. Apparently the young hawk had finally become tired of his watch and flown away.

'Well, shall you carry a letter for me, Bainsúl?' Elrohir questioned in his mind. 'Do I want you to?'

The Elf shook his head and began to walk toward the feasting hall. Unconsciously he crumpled the letter once more in his firm grasp. Something told him that replying to the letter could be dangerous, but a persistent tug in his heart told him that, folly or not, he would find himself with a quill in hand before the day was done.

1. The Elves didn't really use capitalization much.

2. Annuminas – the original capital of the Northern Kingdom (Arnor). Restored by Aragorn, who dwelled there for a time with Arwen in 15 F.A.

Things to Know:

Nessúlë Ëarwen: "young spirit" "sea maiden"

- A relatively young she-Elf, originally from Mithlond.

Lantél: "falling star"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

1. Pen-alag (PEN/ah-lahg): "one(someone)-impetuous"

2. Suilad mellon-en (SOO-il-ad MELL-oh-nen): "greetings friend-my"

3. Teithonnen na boron-emel (tay-THO-nen NAH bohr-OHN-m-l): "written with steadfast heart"

teitho=write--teithont=he wrote (3rd person past tense)--teithonnen=written (passive paticiple)

emel=heart, feelings

4. mellon-ech (MEL-oh-nehk): "friend your"

"""""

I know it's a short chapter for me, but I'm still warming up on this story. I'm starting a job tomorrow, so chapters may continue being short, though I hope to update regularly.

Ilúvien


	2. Festering Wound

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

****

A/N: A word on Elvish: 'ch' is pronounced in a German fashion (kind of like a throaty 'h') not in English fashion (as in "church").

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Chapter 2.) Festering Wound

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will somebody tell me why people let go. 

- e. e. cummings

"""""

June 17, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë gripped her sides and leaned back precariously in her seat, overcome with laughter. She had just witnessed a glorious war of words between her brother, Lantél, and his new wife, Vírtuima, and to her surprise Vírtuima had won. It was not often that the petite maiden showed the mettle of her spirit, but when she did it was always a highly amusing spectacle. Though it did seem as if Lantél was not quite as amused as the she-folk. He sat rigidly at the head of the simple table, a look of confused disbelief on his fair features.

"I suppose I led myself into that trap," he finally murmured sulkily, placing his knife and fork down beside the half-cleared plate in front of him and folding his hands.

Vírtuima smiled meekly, already stepping down from her place of supremacy, leaning over to give Lantél a consolatory kiss on the cheek. "Yes, I am afraid that you did, my husband."

A silly grin spread across Lantél's cheek as the feather-light brush of his wife's lips

passed across his skin. Without warning he unlaced his fingers and snaked both arms around Vírtuima's waist, pulling her onto his lap. "And what prize will you claim for such a stout victory?" he whispered suggestively into her ear.

Nessúlë rolled her eyes, quite recovered from her fit of mirth and wondering whether the two Elves before her had once again forgotten entirely about her presence. She sometimes made a game of it, to see how long it would take them to realize that there was another person yet in the room, but one could only be entertained by such games for so long. With resigned affection and a short sigh Nessúlë went back to eating the lovely pheasant that Vírtuima had prepared, trying politely to _not_] hear all the silly whispered endearments and soft kisses that were being passed several feet away from her.

"You are mine."

Nessúlë jumped slightly as she heard the soft words flowing from her brother's lips. It would take her some time to grow used to hearing Lantél speak them to his new wife, for he had been wont to bandy the same phrase back and forth with her. She clearly remembered comforting him when he was a very small Elfling, still prone to night-terrors: "Don't fret about the monsters, _gwador_ {brother}. They all know that you are mine and won't think of stealing you away." As they had grown, Lantél had adopted the phrase as well, and it became the most common endearment between the two siblings. It had been a great comfort when their family had sailed into the West to know that they would always belong to each other.

'But now he belongs to someone else,' Nessúlë thought while smiling wryly to herself. 'And I am happy for him, I truly am.' She took a thoughtful bite of boiled turnip and chewed it slowly. 'He has simply found a new joy to go alongside the old one.' She looked down at her plate, on which the remnants of her meal lay cooling. "And now I must find another as well," the words came out of her mouth without much thought, "for I am suddenly reminded of how much more the world has to give."

"_Mangaro pennenich, thél_ {What did you say, sister?}"

Nessúlë started at the unexpected question. With chagrin she realized that she must have spoken aloud.

"Nothing." She shook her head and stood up from the table. "I did not mean to speak aloud. I was puzzling something over in my mind, that is all. I must leave you now for my watch begins shortly." Setting down her napkin and placing one hand over her heart she gave a small bow. "Thank you for the lovely meal, Vírtuima."

"""""

Nessúlë paused on the small aerial bridge as she spied a group of determined looking Elves speaking together in the Council Circle of the Great Hall. It looked as though they were gesticulating over a map or some other such document on the table between them. She could clearly see Haldir's profile as he leaned over and pointed to something. Smiling ruefully, she shook her head.

The former Marchwarden was truly a worthy Elf. Nessúlë knew that he would have much rather been with his men on patrol than captive in the city, but the warrior was always willing to be of service to his people. Since Celeborn had grown weary of rule and left to dwell with his grandchildren, a counsel of six Elves had been appointed to oversee the ruling of East Lorien. Haldir was one of them.

A shadow of regret fell down upon Nessúlë as she thought about the events that had brought them to this new situation. In some ways there had been a blossoming of joy and new hope in the Elven kingdoms, but in others there had been a deepening of sadness and longing. There were many Elves who still resided in Greenwood and continued to build and create and thrive. But the work became increasingly harder as more and more of their kindred departed in weariness.

For Nessúlë, there was an acute bitterness in knowing what had become of Caras Galadhon, her brief though beloved home. Before the shadow was lifted from Middle Earth, while she had been away on her journey, Lothlórien had experienced three assaults issuing from Dol Guldor which reeked a sobering damage on the borders of that wood. The interior had remained untainted, but when Celeborn, the Lord and heart of Lórien, had departed, many lost the will to remain. She knew that now there were only a pitiful amount of the Firstborn who still resided in the Golden Wood, and even now their strength and their joy waned.

She and her brother had escaped the decline of Lothlórien, having come to East Lórien to help build the settlement there. In the newly awaked green wood, life still seemed to pulse with a tender hope, and contentment was found for many within the aged trees.

Shaking herself from her reverie, Nessúlë began to make her way once more along the intricate walkways of the settlement. Evil had declined much of late and there was little real danger to the city, but warriors of the Homeguard still stood watch over their kindred, with eyes keen and ears sharp. On this particular afternoon, Nessúlë was to be posted at the base of the ancient tree which housed the Great Hall.

Descending from the trees, Nessúlë walked across the soft mossy ground of the Gathering Circle. Aside from the Great Hall, the city of East Lórien did not house any great structures, and so the wide clearing before the feet of the Hall served as the place of congregation and merriment. On the northern side of the Circle stood the guard post, where two Elves, robed in gray and white, stood somewhat casually.

"You are late," the Elf on the left chided Nessúlë good-naturedly.

"Aye, I am afraid that it is hard to draw away from Vírtuima's culinary delights," Nessúlë replied with a smile. Pleasant bantering always drew her mind away from more sober thoughts and she was quite ready to be merry again. "But I know you, Melcará, and I daresay that _you_ were late in coming this morning as well. Indeed, you almost always are, so you cannot rebuke me."

The Elf smiled cheekily. "Perhaps I was. But wouldn't you agree that a good meal is not nearly so captivating as a new bride? Is not my excuse better?"

"A new bride?" Nessúlë questioned, baffled by his insinuation.

The other guard who had remained silent finally spoke up. "It's hard to believe, isn't it? After ten years he's finally worked up the courage to ask that pretty little _elleth_ of his to marry him."

Nessúlë was speechless for a few moments. "But… but so quickly? How did none of us catch wind of this new development?"

Melcará chuckled as he stepped away from his post, unpinning his white cloak. Nessúlë wordlessly filled his place while waiting for the answer to her question.

"I asked her yesterday afternoon," Melcará finally responded. "We were married before her parents yesterday evening. I have already spoken with the Firstguard to arrange for a leave of absence, but I still had to fulfill my duties this morning… though I was somewhat late in attending to them."

With a dazed expression, Nessúlë watched Melcará saunter off. "I didn't think he would marry for many more years," she finally murmured in disbelief.

Her fellow guard grimaced comically. "I am just glad that I was not posted with him this morning. It was tedious enough having to entertain his bubbling happiness for these past few minutes.

Nessúlë finally relaxed enough to chuckle. "Yes, it is most fortunate."

A comfortable silence settled between the two guards as they took in the calm beauty around them and tried not to relax too much. In the quiet, Nessúlë began to slip back into solemn reflection.

If Melcará was indeed in earnest, that would make for the sixth binding ceremony in East Lórien since its founding. A rather high number considering the current population. The Elves were few, and most of them either had mates or had been bereaved of them. True, there had been some mixing with the Elves from Thranduil's kingdom. But still, it seemed like an inordinate amount of romance was in the air.

Nessúlë shook her head and tried not to think about it. She had never been a fawning maiden, prone to foreplay and coquetry, and had always had a very sensible view of courtship. Having realized early on that the Elven population was waning, Nessúlë had resigned herself quite willingly to the fact that she would probably remain unbound until passing across the sea.

This fact did not disturb her. Or, more accurately, it had not disturbed her till now. Knowing firsthand the felicity that her brother had found made her spirit somewhat restless. She was beginning to feel that there was more to be had from life than standing guard, tending her small home, and meeting with friends on occasion. Something in her longed for more. And this is why she looked beyond the borders of the wood. Perhaps in deeds of errantry and adventure she could find her heart's peace.

She nodded absently to herself. Yes, that did seem to be the best solution. What a grand experience: to see more of this wide country that would soon be lost to all of the Eldar. It would be an outlet for her unsettled spirit, and a stimulating journey.

"""""

When Bainsúl landed unceremoniously on her shoulder, Nessúlë had to use every reserve of self-control in order to keep from crying out. She chided herself inwardly for being so unaware of her surroundings.

Gently, she took Bainsúl onto her right hand and slid her finger into the leather pouch lying against his belly. With satisfaction she pulled out a letter and confirmed that it was not her own note returning to her. "_Hannon chin, Bainsúl, mae carannen. Carantech flae na tôghansí, penneth _{Thank you, Fairwind, well done. But you did ill to bring it here, young one.}" She stroked his fingers affectionately. "I am on watch, I cannot attend to you or the letter now."

With much greater ease than Elrohir, Nessúlë sent the bird away, and tucked the letter within a fold of her uniform. A smile crept lazily across her face. She always liked having something to look forward to at the end of her watch.

"""""""""""""""

June 14, 12 FA (three days earlier)

Elrohir looked at the clean parchment on his desk with a wary eye. He had been grappling with his emotions the entire day and he still could not reach a resolution. Nessúlë's wrinkled letter lay mockingly next to the parchment, as if daring him to reply. He narrowed his eyes and gripped the smoothly carven arms of his chair tightly.

"So that is why you are so distracted."

The feminine voice came from behind Elrohir's right shoulder. Sighing, he turned to his sister-in-law and cocked his head to one side. "You have found me out, lady."

With a sympathetic smile, Oloriel reach out to pick up the worn letter. "Did it arrive in this condition, or is this your doing?" she asked him playfully.

Elrohir rubbed his face and leaned back in the chair. "My doing, I am afraid."

She observed him curiously. "Did it contain unsettling news? She's not to be married, is she?"

The Elf stiffened visibly, and Oloriel winced at her own lack of tact. "I am sorry. That was ill spoken."

Elrohir's face softened after a few moments. "No, do not fret on my account. And no, there was no particular news of any sort. It was merely… a friendly letter."

"Do you mind?" Oloriel held up the letter to indicate her intention. Elrohir nodded slowly, and with this permission, Oloriel began to read. After she had finished perusing it, she placed it back on the desk.

"Well?"

Elrohir looked at her blankly. "What are you inquiring after?"

Oloriel sighed in an exasperated manner and placed her hands over her swollen abdomen. This gesture brought Elrohir's eyes to her rounding form and his face softened considerably.

"Are you going to write to her?"

Elrohir did not answer Oloriel. Instead, he moved the new mother's hands away from her stomach and placed his own there, reaching out with his mind, calling to the young Elfling. He smiled when he began to sense a faint echo of the budding consciousness. After a few moments the tension in his mind began to ebb away, as he sat in quiet with his sister and this brand new life.

Several minutes of silence passed before Elrohir finally drew his hands away. "I do not know," he finally replied to Oloriel's question. "I am divided in mind and heart."

Oloriel smiled softly as she leaned down to kiss his forehead. "But Elrohir, you have never been divided in heart. Your heart has always been certain of its desire."

Elrohir chuckled. "Perhaps you are right. But the fact still remains that my mind _is_ truly divided. The thought of renewing my friendship with Nessúlë is both a wonderful prospect and a terribly horrifying one. I am worn enough by the dull ache in my heart – I have no wish to disturb the wound."

Oloriel rested her hand against Elrohir's hair and mussed it up a bit. "But sometimes the wound must be disturbed, so that it can be cleansed. An infected wound cannot heal, you know this well. You never did tell her of your love for her, did you? Does not this pierce your heart with regret? Will not the missed opportunity haunt your steps for centuries to come?" She leaned close and whispered softly in Elrohir's ear. "Perhaps I am presumptuous, but it appears to me as though you suffer from infection."

"I never wanted to hurt her," Elrohir murmured, his throat suddenly dry. "She was not made for a match, and I never wanted to burden her with the weight of guilt for my suffering. It is best that she does not know."

Oloriel furrowed her brows. "But is it best to be false? I believe that I know Nessúlë quite well. She values honesty and would not shrink from a burden if it meant helping a friend. You underestimate her, make her out to be simpler than she is. No one can be summed up in a few poetic lines, despite how romantically tragic it would be."

With a pat on the shoulder, Oloriel walked slowly, though not ungracefully, from the room, a hand spread out across her belly. Elrohir watched her go with a bemused expression. Oloriel was right – his heart was unified in its desire. She was also very logical, and his mind couldn't come up with many objections to her reasoning. With set features he picked up his quill and looked determinedly at the crumpled paper containing Nessúlë elegant scrawl.

'It is only a letter,' he reminded himself, 'A letter that fell from the sky.'

A wistful look crossed his face. Perhaps it was a sign. What it meant he did not know, but it had been sent to him and he was becoming more and more determined to see where it led.

With tense muscles he placed a clean sheet of parchment in front of him. He paused. How should he greet her? His quill hovered over the page for several moments in indecision. He groaned aloud.

"This is a pretty way to start," he muttered sourly.

As he spoke Bainsúl, who had a habit for dropping in unannounced, flew through the open window and landed on his desk. The hawk eyed him impatiently.

Elrohir chuckled. "Yes, yes, I will have the letter for you in the morning, _penalag_ {impetuous one}."

With the hawk watching his every move, Elrohir took up the quill and simply began to write. He decided to use a bantering tone and hope for the best:

__

June 14, 12 Fourth Age

suilad na chin, tithennaug {greetings to you, little dwarf}_,_

I know that, were I beside you, I would be in grave danger for reviving that pet name, but I found the temptation too much for me, especially when I am writing from such a safe distance. When you spoke of travelling I could not help but think of when I first learned of your brother's name for you, and how he regaled me with stories of your childhood escapades while we journeyed"" to Lothlórien. It made me wish that I had known you then…

"""

1. See chapter 21 of "To Dream" for the story of Nessúlë's dwarf-like qualities. = )

Things to Know:

Vítuima (veer-TOO-im-ah): "rose bud"

Melcará (MEL-cah-ra): "strong/mighty arm"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

man-garo pedo-ch, thél: "What-have spoken-you, sister?"

hannon chin, Bainsúl, mae carannen. Carant-ech flae na tôg-han-sí, pen-neth: "Thank you, Fairwind, well done. Did-you ill to bring-it-here, one(someone)-young."

pen-alag: "one(someone)-impetuous"

suilad na chin, tithen-naug: "greetings to you, little-dwarf"


	3. Insight

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Chapter 3.) Insight

"""""

Some day I shall rise and leave my friends

And seek you again through the world's far ends

Rupert Brooke 

"""""

July 31, 12 Fourth Age

Celeborn and Elrohir ate their breakfast in companionable silence. They had not been joined that morning by the other half of their family, but did not wonder at it. Oloriel was beginning to grow uncomfortable from the load she carried, and it was not an uncommon occurrence if sleep escaped her during the night. She would therefore try to rest when and where she could, and her husband often rested with her.

A clatter echoed down the hallway outside the private dining chamber. Both Elves looked up and then glanced toward one another. An amused smile flitted across Celeborn's face.

"You don't suppose someone has finally tripped over the abundant sprawl of begetting gifts that has begun to pile up in our residence?" The elder chuckled softly.

Elrohir smirked. "By the time the child is born I doubt that anyone will be able to even move about in the nursery."

Another silence settled between them, accented only by the gentle clink of dishes or the ruffling breeze that came into the open room.

"You are looking well, grandfather. I believe that the thought of a new young one does you much good."

Celeborn smiled wistfully. "Aye, perhaps it does. I long for your grandmother, just as I long to remain in the only home I have ever known. And yet, the knowledge of a coming child does bring peace to my torn heart. It seems very fitting."

"I am glad," Elrohir replied in a subdued tone. "I must confess that it frightened me to see you look so weary when you came to us before. _That_ was certainly _not_ fitting. I hope that you shall be well again."

"And I hope the same for you."

Elrohir looked up from his honeyed porridge and eyed his grandfather critically. "What do you mean?" he finally asked, nibbling at the remainder of a small green apple.

Celeborn smiled and stood up from the table. "You do not really want to speak of it, so I will not speak of it either. Do you still take exercise in the morning?"

The younger Elf nodded. "But if you are bent on coming with me, I hope that you will not be so obscure and mysterious: it will hardly make for pleasant conversation."

Stepping gracefully through the arched walls into a shower of morning sunshine, Celeborn turned back slightly and pinned the half-Elf with his gaze. Elrohir paused and waited for what would come next. As he watched his grandfather he was struck anew by the age and wisdom behind the older Elf's eyes, as well as the enduring strength and settled poise of his ageless body. Though weighed down with heavy grief, his grandfather was still lordly and high, and this brought a steady comfort to Elrohir's heart. Some things were just as they should be, and he hoped fervently that they would never change.

Finally the silence was broken: "I think that you have been much too preoccupied of late with matters of the heart and mind." Celeborn's voice was clear and low. "You were not meant for delegation or for careful inaction. If your spirit does not grapple with life and push against its currents then it will become dissipated. Come, no more books and papers for you. We will go out into the world and see what the trees and the grass have to say to us. And when you are ready, perhaps you will begin to speak as well."

Celeborn's final words sparked an unbidden thought to spring up in Elrohir's mind, but he quickly pushed it aside. Of course he had no wish to speak of Nessúlë. She and he had settled into an amiable friendship once more. He was happy. He was content.

Silver hair danced in the wind as Celeborn shook his head slowly. "Come, _ion nín_ {my son}. Come out into the sunshine."

Elrohir obeyed willingly, trying to bury his confusing thoughts. As he stepped out after his grandfather a guilty pleasure raced through him as he thought of all the things he would not review, contemplate, or sign that day, and of the quill that would lie listlessly on his father's desk.

'Grandfather is right,' he mused as the jumbled greens and browns of the valley began to fill his senses, 'idleness does not suite me.'

""""""""""""""""""""""

July 25, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë carefully adjusted her knapsack upon her horse's withers and then patted the stallion affectionately. Hithui was only four years old, but he had been well trained and was possessed of a good temper. Nessúlë felt confident in her choice of steed: he would go swiftly and fearlessly should she encounter any danger along the way.

Lantél walked up behind Nessúlë and placed a gray cloak around her shoulders. She thanked him softly and then turned round to bid him a proper farewell. Her one grief in leaving the woods was that he would not be coming with her.

"I shall miss you, _gwador nín_ {my brother}, ever so much," she whispered in his ear as he embraced her.

"And I shall miss you, _tithennaug_ {little dwarf}."

Nessúlë laughed softly as she pulled away. It reminded her of Elrohir's first letter. When he had addressed her in such a way she couldn't seem to find it within herself to be aggravated. In fact, his gesture had produced quite the opposite affect. Somehow it had seemed right that he should speak to her in such an affectionate, teasing manner. It was comforting.

The _elleth_ shook her head slightly as she realized that her thoughts had wandered. Her sister-in-law was placing a kiss on each of her cheeks, and she roused herself in time to return the kiss.

"I leave him in your care, _muinthel_ {sister}. I do hope that he does not impose upon your gentleness while I am away. If he misbehaves I will have to deal with him."

A sharp cry rose up from Nessúl's throat as she was picked up by the waist and swung once around by her brother.

"How can you speak so of me?" Lantél asked innocently. "You will teach my wife to be as cynical as you are." He laughed and pecked Nessúlë on the nose. "I cannot have that. She is gentle indeed, and that is her greatest defense – don't spoil her."

Vírtuima began to say amiable when Nessúlë absently spoke her mind: "Am I really cynical?"

Lantél and Vírtuima exchanged puzzled looks. Was that the proper way to describe her?

"I believe that Lantél would have done better to say 'practical'," Vírtuima spoke softly. "You are so very discerning and independent, and your judgement so forceful and clear…" The she-Elf did not finish her sentence. But she momentarily broke into a brilliant smile. "And yet you are also so kind and courageous. Did not think of what your brother says. He is merely teasing."

Nessúlë was in a mood to accept this non-explanation. The day was promising to be radiant, the air was filled with the scent of the forest, and an unknown road lay before her. There was simply no reason to brood.

"Very well then, I shall set my ponderings aside and be off. Come Bainsúl."

The young hawk, you had been perched on a nearby branch came down to alight on the blanketed rump of Hithui, just as Nessúlë settled herself across the horse's back.

"Until next we meet," Nessúlë smiled at the two remnants of her family and nudged her horse into a brisk trot.

"Do not forget that you are mine," Lantél called after her, "So you're not allowed to lose yourself. You must come back, or I am afraid I will never forgive you."

Nessúlë smiled brilliantly and flashed a final glance over her shoulders. She did not reply; her brother knew her heart.

""""""""""""""""""""""

July 31, 12 Fourth Age

"Will you stand against me?" A spark of challenge leapt into Celeborn's eyes as he stood in the middle of the clearing, facing his grandson. A hard gleam flashed off his sword and his limbs tensed in readiness.

Elrohir smiled slowly and drew out his own sword. It had been many centuries since he had raised a blade against his grandsire. He could still remember the encounter. The experience of a warrior had not yet descended upon his shoulders and his defeat had been swift and sound. He wondered briefly if the scales had begun to level out in his favor.

These thoughts did not have a long life as Elrohir's mind was quickly thrown into a face-paced dance. Apparently Celeborn's skill had not dulled with age. And yet, at the same time, Elrohir's had certainly increased. This made the game infinitely more interesting.

For several moments the two Elven blades were caught up in a flurry of thrusts, feints, and parries. Had the bout taken place in the training yards a great many onlookers would certainly have gathered, but as it was, only the trees stood witness as the grandfather and grandson met each other with steel and exultation.

Elrohir smiled broadly as he allowed the ancient dance to take him over. He had already received one knick on his arm, but no pain reached him. In the midst of the battle the only things that mattered were movement and wit and life. His worries could not withstand the onslaught of Celeborn's mighty sword, and his doubts could not stand against the honed quality of his own deadly movements.

Even as Elrohir let the world slip away the steps came to an abrupt halt. But still the pattern remained uninterrupted. Celeborn's sword and come toward Elrohir's left side. With a swift and powerful motion, the dark-haired Elf had swung his own blade underneath that of his grandfather's and twisted it upwards. The two Elves now stood face to face – strung taut as bow strings – with their blades locked between them at the hilt.

Time stood still for a brief moment and Elrohir was absurdly conscious of how a bird in the branches above them was singing to wake the dawn. In an instant Celeborn had twisted away and thrust once more towards his grandson. Without missing a heartbeat Elrohir ducked past the tip of the blade and into close range once more. The sharp edge of Celeborn's blade bit lightly into his side, but he now held the handle of his blade low, with the tip pressing against his grandsire's neck. The older Elf smiled broadly.

"Well done – very well done. You are much improved since last we met."

Elrohir chuckled. "I should hope so."

The two Elves stepped away from each other and eyed their handy work. Elrohir's tunic had a red patch of blood on the right sleeve and a clean slice along the left side. Celeborn was also sporting a wound on his hand and blood was spilling onto the pommel of his sword. Both of them started laughing at the same time. The tenseness of the past few weeks and flown out of them, and if a few scrapes and bruises had been required for the healing, then they both felt that it was well worth it.

Celeborn's mood seemed to ebb and flow with the seasons, and there were still sorrowful memories that haunted him in the lands of Middle Earth. Of Elrohir, some has already been told, and much may be assumed. He had written several letters to Nessúlë over the past month and was still in a tedious state of unrest. _His_ mood seemed to ebb and flow with the coming of her letters.

Sitting down on a nearby fallen tree, Elrohir smiled quite genuinely. "You were right, granddad, the morning outdoors has done me much good."

Celeborn smiled fondly, choosing not to point out that Elrohir had not referred to him as "granddad" since the coming of his majority. There was no harm in reverting to old habits, as long as they brought one to a better state of mind. Elrohir had developed the propensity of trying to be everything at once, when he could only ever be himself. And so it was a step in the right direction if, for a moment, he could think like a child again. Children were straightforward and could be wonderfully perceptive.

"I am glad that you are feeling better; it eases my mind."

At this statement Elrohir raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "You keep alluding to my some ill state about me? What do you mean by it?"

Celeborn's eyes twinkled merrily. If he had been speaking to Elladan this conversation would have been much more long and involved, consisting of half-questions and insinuation. Twice already Elrohir had pointedly asked what he meant to say. There was something pleasantly stark about such a manner.

"I mean that you have not been so very well of late," Celeborn finally answered, moving over to sit next to his grandson. "You have been brooding, and if you continue to do so I shall soon be unable to tell you apart from Elladan. Elladan sits when he is perplexed – you brandish a sword. You have neglected your sword of late, so something must be grievously wrong."

To his surprise Elrohir laughed out loud, making the glade ring and shimmer. "Thank you, I believe I needed that. I have been rather sullen lately, haven't I?"

Celeborn made no reply but merely eyed the younger Elf pointedly. Elrohir's face fell slightly.

"Do you really want to know?" He asked self-consciously

Silence.

"Ah… well then… I suppose it all began at i'Merendë Enyali"" before the War."

"""""

"And you never told her?" Celeborn asked incredulously.

Elrohir nodded his head in the affirmative. "It wouldn't have been right–"

"Foolish boy!" The elder elf spoke resolutely, though not unkindly, standing up and taking several paces across the green space before turning around. "Do you not remember the words that your grandmother spoke over you when you were born?"

_Elrohir, knight of Elves and Men""_

A champion you will be and a hero

A doer of deeds and a singer of songs

Do not sleep when the sun is on your face

Do not sleep when the night is young

For you are like the wind, fair and strong

Forever seeking and forever finding

Elrohir spoke the words softly and steadily, familiar with their flavor. He knew what his grandfather was about to say.

"Inaction does not sit well with you. You cannot hide within yourself – you were made to fight or to fall."

Placing his head in his hands, Elrohir grimaced. "I would rather harm myself than harm Nessúlë. She is much more valuable."

"You think to highly of yourself, young one."

Elrohir was startled by Celeborn's blunt statement, and so he did not respond. Instead he merely listened as the wise Elf continued.

"I think it is rather pretentious to believe that an honest confession of love would have any negative effect on that lady. She is strong and high-minded. Either she will find it in herself to return your love or she will feel sorry at your sadness and move on, believing fully in her own obliviousness to matters of the heart that you will heal and find someone else in time. In many ways she is like your grandmother: you will never be capable of hurting her until she loves you in return."

A thoughtful look passed across Celeborn's face and a few moments of silence passed before he continued. "Do not lie to yourself, Elrohir. You choose not speak because you are afraid. But I do not see how a rejection can hurt you more than the slow and steady decline which has been sweeping away your joy for these past few years. You must tell her."

Elrohir's shoulders slumped. Neither one spoke again until it was time to return for the noon meal. As they walked back toward the halls Celeborn noticed resolution in the set of Elrohir's face.

"So you understand now?" he inquired gently.

"I think that I do… I hope that I do." Elrohir looked rather helplessly at his grandfather. "But I would prefer meeting and enemy straight on in battle. It would be less nerve-wracking."

Celeborn laughed good-naturedly. "Well, at least you have some time to prepare."

As the Elf-lord spoke the screech of a hawk sounded above them and moments later a handsome bird landed on Elrohir's shoulder. At first the pale aspect of Elrohir's face confused Celeborn, but he soon came to a realization.

"Another letter from the lady?"

Elrohir nodded numbly, taking the young hawk in his hand and retrieving the note.

"_Hannon chin, Bainsúl._ {Thank you, Bainsúl}," Elrohir quickly murmured was he opened the note. It was short and did not take very long to read. If it was possible, his face grew paler.

"What? What it is?" Celeborn asked with concern.

"Perhaps I do not have as much time to prepare as you thought," Elrohir finally muttered, "She will be here in two days."

"""""

1. i'Merendë Enyalië = "The Festival of Remembrance" – Elvish New Year Celebration.

2. Elrohir means "Elf knight"

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Lantél: "falling star"

Vírtuima: "rose bud"

Hithui: "Novermber"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

""

ion nín: "son my"

gwador: "brother"

tithen-naug: "little-dwarf"

elleth: "she-Elf"

muinthel: "sister"

hannon chin: "thank you"

""

Iluvien


	4. Getting Reacquainted

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Chapter 4.) Getting Reacquainted

"""""

__

Friend, whose smile has come to be

Very precious unto me

- Elizabeth Allen

"""""

July 29, 12 Fourth Age

Elrohir let his head fall back with a groan. The noise caught Elladan's attention and he looked up over the edge of a large book he had been reading. Oloriel, who sat next to Elladan on a cushioned bench, remained undisturbed in slumber.

"I do hope that you will not make so many uncouth noises when she is actually present." Elladan's tone was wry, but amused.

Elrohir fiddled nervously with a small piece of parchment. It was the last letter that he had received from Nessúlë.

"I shall be fortunate if I can make any utterances at all," he finally replied. "I wish grandfather had let me be. I'm not sure that I care to face this new resolve."

"Well I for one am glad he did." Elladan closed his book emphatically, causing Oloriel to start awake. Setting the book aside, he placed one hand on her enlarged stomach and leaned over to plant a light kiss on her cheek, whispering an apology as he did so. He then continued to address his brother. "I've been giving you subtle hints for years. But grandfather always did have a sublime way with words. Have courage brother; Nessúlë is a worthy lady and will respect your honesty."

Oloriel smiled drowsily and nestled into her husband's side. Elladan folded her in his arms obliging.

"Nessúlë has a sharp mind," she murmured, "She would be foolish indeed to pass up an Elf like you, Elrohir. Now that her brother is married I believe she will begin to long for a family of her own. And why not join with you? You have always been good friends, and your personalities would never allow for a boring romance. And she cares for you, Elrohir – she cares for you very much."

Elrohir grimaced and stood up, beginning to pace along the terrace which they occupied. "Yes, she cares for me… but not in the way that I long for her to care. And I am not interested in being a wise or practical choice for a mate."

Elladan snorted in amusement. "You lie. If she offered herself in marriage out of anything less than true love you would accept her readily enough. At least then she would be yours, and you would then rise to the challenge of wooing her."

Frowning resolutely, Elrohir turned away from the pair and leaned against the railing of the veranda. "That would be crass."

"Nay," Elladan chuckled, "For it is not unlike my courtship of Oloriel. Were we not thrown together against our will into a most awkward and intimate association? There really was nothing for it but to fall in love."

At this remark, Oloriel chuckled softly and shifted so that she could place a kiss beneath Elladan's ear. The Elf happily pulled his wife more snugly against him and continued.

"Things happen for a reason, Elrohir. If Nessúlë ever chose you it would be a blessing you would do well to accept without question. You should therefore use all of your powers of persuasion – rational as well as emotional – and hope for the best. I believe that the Valar will bless you, one way or another."

Elrohir turned from the railing and faced his brother. He then left silently, going down to pace nervously in the leaf-strewn courtyard.

Feeling that he had done all that he could for Elrohir, Elladan began to focus all of his attention on his wife. He moved his hand lovingly across her stomach as he nuzzled her cheek, leaning down a few moments later to place several kisses where his hand had been. Then, with a light kiss on the delicate tip of her ear he whispered, "_Hannon chin, meleth nín, an anírel enni_. {Thank you, my love, for choosing me.}"

Oloriel lifted her hand to bury it in Elladan's dark hair. "I couldn't help myself, _melorpân_ {dearest} – there was no other choice."

"Do you think there will be a choice for Nessúlë?" Elladan still absent-mindedly caressed Oloriel's stomach, but a small furrow had newly developed between his brows.

His wife sighed softly as she closed her eyes once more. "I cannot say. I think that they would make each other so happy, but I do not know if they will see this themselves."

""""""""""""""""""""

Nessúlë smiled cheerfully as the wind danced through her dark hair, brining with it the fragrant smells of the valley. She was nearing the gates of Imladris, the evening sun illuminating the path before her, and for some silly reason she could not quell the song that was in her heart.

'It is such a comforting thing to meet with old friends,' she mused to herself. 'I am glad that I chose to come. I was growing so sedate and morose at home.'

A small whispering thought in the back of her mind suggested that the roots of her happiness went far deeper than comfort, but it was soon drowned out by a barrage of old memories. As Nessúlë passed beneath a particularly low-hanging branch she recalled her first introduction to the hidden sanctuary.

She and her brother, along with an old family friend, had been travelling toward the Hithaeglir {Misty Mountains} along the East Road when they were assailed by a small group of Goblins. At first the situation had not seemed in any way dire. The enemy was few, and the Elven horses which bore Nessúlë and her companions were quite capable of speeding them away. Unfortunately, another small group of Goblins had lain in wait ahead on the path, and one of them was even able to seize Lantél and pull him his horse. But thankfully, before any harm could come to him, aid had fallen from the trees in the form of three Elven warriors. The Goblins had been dispatched in short order by the six Elves present, three being slain by Nessúlë herself. But just as the skirmish was coming to an end, a last wild arrow had pierced the maiden's leg. This was when she had first met Elrohir.

Nessúlë chuckled softly as she remembered the encounter, letting her hands trail through the leaves of the low branch as she ducked under it. Against her protests, Elrohir had pulled her up onto his horse to carry her back to Imladris. He had been riding recklessly, and she had been frightened when she saw this very same branch loom up in their path. To her relief, Elrohir had slowed down to pass beneath it, but not until the last moment possible. After they passed beneath the tree, it had taken Nessúlë several moments to realize that one of her hands was still nervously clenching the strange Elf's brown tunic.

Shaking her head merrily, Nessúlë turned her mind to other memories. Her unorthodox meeting with Elrohir had led to an equally unorthodox friendship. From proper courteousness to amusing antics; from affectionate teasing to heated arguments; from childish pranks to sincere regard; from years of silence to weekly correspondence. She began to chuckle once more as she thought of the mud fight, of their time in Lothlórien, and of Elrohir's hand in the horrible joke played on Hallandakil "in defense of her honor" "". Yes, her relationship with him had certainly been full of many unexpected twists, both disconcerting and heart-warming. And now, as she found herself riding toward him once more, she wondered what would happen next.

'Of course,' she reminded herself as a bee buzzed near her ear, 'I am also eager to see Elladan and Oloriel once more. Yes, that will be a joy as well.'

""""""""""""""""""""

Elrohir turned abruptly toward the gate, then called out to his brother and sister-in-law, "She is coming."

He had been pacing for the last twenty minutes or so, but did not yet feel quite prepared. Why had he agreed to this? Why had he ever told his grandfather? He wondered briefly if there was any way for him to withdraw honorably from the arena into which he had been thrust, but his mind refused to provide him an alternative. There was nothing for it. His mind knew what needed to be done. His heart knew what needed to be done. And apparently, all of his relatives knew what needed to be done as well, for they had been urging him on with advice and encouragement for the past day and a half.

His heart paused as the echo of hoof-beats reverberated in the courtyard. For several ridiculous moments his eyes clung to a rusty orange leaf that came spinning lazily down to rest in the threshold of the gates. And then, there she was, vibrant and beautiful as ever. She wore a tunic that matched the color of the fallen leaf, while her breeches and leather boots were a soft earthy brown. Her thick mahogany hair hung loose, draping across her shoulders and down to whisper against the horse's back. The dying bronze sun, which spilled its last rays across the courtyard, cast a halo about her head. Her cheeks were also glowing, having gained extra color during the brisk ride from the Ford, and her eyes snapped merrily. But to Elrohir, the most beautiful thing about her was her smile, which was radiant and which fell upon him like the caress of a gentle sea breeze, full of life and the promise of unknown and exotic lands.

The world came spinning back into his mind as Nessúlë dismounted her horse and approached the welcoming trio. He was strangely entranced by the way that her hair swayed when she walked, but tried to push this thought from his mind for the time being.

As was proper, Nessúlë first conveyed her best wishes to Oloriel on the coming child, and called out a blessing for the unborn babe. She then saluted Elladan, who stood next to his wife, supporting her with an arm around her waist. It was therefore to Elrohir that she turned last, with an impudent tilt of the head.

"_Vedui, mellon nín_ {Greetings, my friend}. Are you happy to see me?"

Elrohir did not reply. Such a loaded question, and so hard to answer when his mouth felt like cotton. All he could do was let his eyes travel over her face, drinking in her beauty. A few moments passed away, but neither Elf seemed to feel any awkwardness. Nessúlë stood patiently as she waited for her friend to speak, too happy and careless to find his behavior odd. Oloriel and Elladan waited expectantly to see how things would unfold.

Like the sudden coming of the dawn, a wide smile burst across Elrohir's face. Was he happy? How could he not be happy when she was near? It was one of the ironies of his life – the cause of all this heartache was always the source of his renewal. As long as she was near he could bear the gulf that separated them. It was only when the sun departed that the flower drooped.

An unusual warmth crept through Nessúlë as she beheld herself through Elrohir's smile. She couldn't pin it down, but it was a wonderful feeling. Responding to his smile, she threaded her arm through Elrohir's and merrily commanded him to lead her into tea. Elrohir, whose haunted aspect had been almost fully eclipsed by the moment, willingly obliged her, finally loosing his tongue to speak pleasant nothings as he led her inside.

As Elrohir and Nessúlë walked off together, Elladan threw his wife a puzzled glance. "What just happened here?"

Oloriel shook her head slowly. "He is smitten – he's not supposed to make sense."

Elrohir cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "I was and am smitten, yet I am fairly certain that I still have my wits about me."

Patting her husbands arm, Oloriel suggested they following their confusing relation into tea. Elladan thought this was a very sensible idea.

"""""

Oloriel felt that the evening had, in general, been a fair success. Against all odds Elrohir had not melted into a nervous puddle (though the haunted look did try to creep back once or twice), Nessúlë had not seemed to notice anything amiss (being somehow fed by an invisible spring of good cheer), and the black berries turned out to be quite wonderful (despite her fears that they were picked too early""). It was only after their light repast had ended that a hitch appeared in the innocuous flow of the evening.

After some time had passed spent in amiable conversation, Nessúlë rose with the easy manner of an old friend and declared, "I can see you are growing tired, Oloriel, so I will no longer importune you. I believe that I shall take a stroll in the twilight before I retire." With that, she moved toward the open double doors that led out onto a wide veranda, acting on the firm assumption that Elrohir would naturally follow her.

This assumption was indeed justified. Since Oloriel, and therefore Elladan, was bound by other matters it was very natural to assume that Elrohir, as the third host, would escort her for the remainder of the evening. However, though he did stand up and look after her, Elrohir did not move to follow. Elladan tried to clear his throat inconspicuously, but to no avail.

With the ease of one who has no more use for simpering, Oloriel sidled up to her brother-in-law and whispered quickly, "Hesitation does not become you. Go."

Elrohir hardened his jaw and nodded, stepping resolutely out into the gloaming. He found Nessúlë just down the steps in a small garden; she was leaning against a sturdy sapling.

"I began to wonder if you would come," she stated simply, not looking at him, but off into the distance.

"Are you glad that I did?" Elrohir was not sure why he had asked this question. It was reminiscent of how she had addressed him upon arriving two hours before. Why did they both feel the need to test each other's welcome?

A slow smile crept across Nessúlë's face and it seemed to Elrohir as though the air had lightened. "Don't you know the answer?" She turned her smile upon him and tilted her head. Several moments passed before she spoke again.

"I think that I have missed you, son of Elrond." Elrohir's heart thrummed at these words. "I have missed all of you. I cannot think why we have all been so silent." Elrohir's heart descended as she spoke of the collective.

"You always corresponded with Oloriel," he responded blankly.

Nessúlë shrugged carelessly. She turned to walk down a nearby path and Elrohir followed, coming to walk beside her.

"Not very frequently," she replied, "And what of you? I hardly ever spoke with you. And I find only now, after these years, that you are a delightful correspondent (I showed your third letter to Lantél – he found it very amusing). And even this happy occurrence shames me, for after our friendship it was very careless of me to neglect my promise at all; I should not have had to be induced to start by my own boredom or encouraged to continue by your amiable writing. Will you forgive me?"

Elrohir was caught off guard by the frank and open request. Nessúlë did not pause to look into his eyes, or touch his arm, or bow her head, but there was an aura of perfect sincerity that hung about her. It brought an equally sincere smile to his face.

"No I will not… for there is nothing to forgive," Elrohir turned of the path onto another one, and Nessúlë followed willingly, trailing her hand through the tall daises that grew alongside. "Am I not equally to blame?"

Nessúlë smiled knowingly. "Nay, I do not believe so. For you have always struck me as the sort of person who would not write the first letter. I knew this well enough."

Elrohir forgot the remaining vestiges of his awkwardness as he sought to puzzle out her remark. Finally he sighed. "Whatever do you mean?"

A small burst of laughter escaped Nessúlë when she spied Elrohir's confused face in the faltering light. "Tell me truly," she finally spoke, firmly but with a hint of merriment in her voice, "Did you ever once make a direct move in any relationship without sidling up to it? Without receiving some hint that it was the right time? In this way I believe that you are not like your brother. He deliberates much, but then acts, swiftly and resolutely. You are much more apt to decide, but then you approach with caution. Is this not so?"

The two moved on in silence as Elrohir reflected on his own behavior. The more he thought of it, the more that Nessúlë's reading of him seemed correct. He could remember many times in which he had waited so long to make an overture to a maiden that someone else had moved in. In other arenas he recognized this pattern as well. It might even be said that this was why he had always enjoyed a wider circle of friends than Elladan, for he waited on other people's time, on other people's inclinations, and not his own. In this way he could be more spontaneous, but at the same time, less deliberate.

"I find, lady, that you are right." Elrohir nodded courteously to his companion. "However did you come to read me so plainly? It is humbling to know that the few months during which you resided here were enough for you to dissect me so."

"My father always said that I had a discerning eye. – And so it is true, you see. I knew that you would not write unless you felt that I wanted you to. And how could you know unless I wrote to you? I never thought much of letters the few times that we met over the years, and so I am sure I never even hinted at it."

Elrohir lifted his hands in a sign of resignation. "You may keep your interpretations, lady, but I still say that no forgiveness is needed. But, should it ever be required, know that I would give it freely."

The conversation then turned to much lighter topics. By the time that Nessúlë retired for the evening Elrohir felt almost comfortable and at ease in his position. The possibilities of the future began to recede beneath the gentles waves of Nessúlë's voice, and for the moment at least, Elrohir decided to merely enjoy their time together and let nature take its course. If nature wholly failed, then and only then would he interfere.

""""""""""""""""""""

"Do you think they are still out there?" Oloriel murmured, adjusting her head on the pillow. It was now quite dark out. Elladan had spent a good bit of time giving her a thorough massage after retiring to their rooms, and then they had both made several attempts at communicating with their child.

"I have no thoughts on the matter whatsoever," Elladan replied crisply as he slid under the bed covers and stretched out behind his wife, spooning against her back. "Elrohir is a grown Elf, in many ways wise and courageous. I have decided to wash my hands of his personal affairs."

Oloriel chuckled. "Should I remind you of how many times you have said that before?"

Elladan smiled as he let his fingers trail along Oloriel's sleek rope of braided hair. "Nay, wife, do not." He kissed her shoulder and let his left hand, now finished with the braid, splay out against her rounded stomach. She responded by nestling her feet against his own.

Stillness pervaded the room until the gentle sound of rain began to drum against the roof. Oloriel smiled. She loved the rain. But even more, she loved lying in bed with her husband, beneath the warm covers, as she listened to the pattering melody. With a contented sigh Oloriel lifted up a small wish into the heavens: 'Please let Nessúlë and Elrohir discover this contentment. They are both so deserving. Let them be happy together.'

"""""

See my other story, "To Dream", for details about these incidents. 

2. It's true – Blackberries come later in the season (Aug/Sept for us Northern Hemisphere Folks in temperate zone)

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit  
Lantél: "falling star"

Hallandakil: "tall victor"

vedui, mellon nín: "greeting, friend my"

mel-or-pân: literally, "dear-above-all" figuratively, "dearest"

hannon chin, meleth nín, an anírel enni: (literally) "thank you, love my, for wanting me"

--- I am fairly certain that 'enni' is the indirect object form of the pronoun 'I/me'.

"""""

Iluvien


	5. Spontaneous Maneuvers

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 5.) Spontaneous Maneuvers

"""""

I was born to catch dragons in their dens  
And pick flowers  
To tell tales and laugh away the morning  
To drift and dream like a lazy stream  
And walk barefoot across sunshine days.  
- James Kavanaugh

"""""

Aug 1, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë laughed joyfully as she twirled across the wet grass. The rain had finally stopped the night before, leaving the world in a frenzy of brilliant colors and sparkling raindrops. Elrohir watched silently from behind a copse of yews as his ladylove danced gracefully in the sunshine.

Not knowing that she was observed, Nessúlë flopped carelessly down onto the soggy ground and closed her eyes, taking in the fresh, rain-washed scents of the earth as her breathing calmed. It was such a joy to be in the open air. This was one aspect of Imladris that she truly preferred above her home in East Lorien. Having been born in Mithlond, and not even being descended from the Silvan Elves, Nessúlë would always prefer a clear view of the sky to the largely unbroken shade of the forest.

"You dance beautifully."

A voice drifted down from above Nessúlë and she opened her eyes, squinting slightly in the bright morning sunshine. She scrunched her face up in embarrassment.

"Don't you know that it is impolite to watch a lady when she is unaware of you, sir? …I was being rather silly."

Elrohir chuckled and set down cross-legged next to where she lay. "Nay, you were quite enchanting. It reminded me of that day in Minas Tirith when you danced with Oloriel: so joyful and graceful.

A slight blush crept across Nessúl's face and she shifted uneasily. It didn't sit well with her to be praised so blatantly. Elrohir, sensing her discomfort, changed the subject.

"I had hoped to show you the upper end of the valley after luncheon. There is a marvelous view there if you are up for a climb."

Elrohir let his words hang, silently questioning her. Nessúlë smiled and sat up, the back of her gown now wet through from the damp earth.

"That sounds lovely. When shall we depart?"

Before answering, Elrohir got up from the ground and held out a hand for Nessúlë. She grasped it, and he pulled her to a standing position.

"Well," he finally began, looking at the sky in a thoughtful way. "I believe that Oloriel is feeling very large and immobile this morning and would enjoy some of your company, since Elladan and I both have a few matters of business to attend to. Why don't we part ways until lunch and then start out afterward?"

"Your plan is quite sensible." Nessúlë nodded then shook out her damp skirts. "Shall I find Oloriel in her chambers or in the breakfast room?"

"I believe in the breakfast room. She was reading by the fire there when last I saw her."

With another nod, Nessúlë walked off toward the halls, humming aimlessly to herself. As Elrohir watched her go an incredulous smile crept across his face. Over the past few days he had grown relatively comfortable in Nessúl's presence, but he certainly hadn't intended to approach her now, and when he found himself standing over her he hadn't know in the slightest what he would say. But apparently things had come out quite well.

'I suppose that nature is somehow taking her course,' he thought absently as he began to walk toward his study, which opened into a garden close by. 'I wonder where it shall lead me.'

* * *

"You seem very quiet," Nessúlë commented as she and Elrohir moved silently through the forest. She could see a light up ahead and knew that they would soon come out into a clearing where a steep rise led up to the rim of the valley. They had walked some distance to reach the place and during that time Nessúl's companion had spoken little, and generally only to point out some noteworthy sight or to make some idle, though pleasant, remark.

Elladan sighed. This excursion was certainly not playing out the way he had anticipated. He felt clumsy and uncertain and had been dancing around any real conversation since they left. His confidence of the morning had deserted him with the realization that he would be alone with Nessúlë for the entire afternoon, walking tenuously on the safe side of like and love. So many things he could not say – so many things he wished he would say. When he and Nessúlë were among other people, avoiding dangerous waters seemed so much easier. When he was alone with her like this, walking quietly through the woods, all he could think of was how much more pleasant it would be if she were holding his hand.

"Forgive me, lady, for making you feel uncomfortable. But… have you never felt as though there is simply nothing worth saying?"

Nessúlë turned her head to look at him. "Yes, sometimes… but only when I am ill at ease. Are you ill at ease?"

Elrohir had the intense urge to roll his eyes. 'Why must she always be so direct?' he griped to himself.

"No, I…" He tried to come up with a believable explanation, but failed utterly. "Yes… yes I am," he finally murmured, his shoulders slumping as he stepped out into the light.

Nessúlë stopped and commanded him to look at her. "Why?"

"Do you truly want to know?" Elrohir inquired, holding her gaze. "What if it was unpleasant, or shocking, or distasteful to you?"

A compassionate smile lit up Nessúl's face as she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Of course I want to know, that's why I asked you. What are friends for but to bring each other comfort? I do hope that I have not caused you any pain. Have I?"

Looking away from her, Elrohir eyed a small flower that grew at the base of one of the nearby trees. She always hit exactly where it hurt the most.

"Nay, it is not your fault."

Elrohir motioned her to follow him up the steep trail. To Nessúl's relief there was enough room for them to walk side-by-side. This gave her more opportunity to press her cause.

"But you have yet to tell me what troubles you, _mellon_."

Elrohir chuckled. As he did so a weight seemed to fly from his chest. Why was he so uneasy? The world was beautiful, Nessúlë was beautiful, and one way or another he would eventually reveal his heart to her. And she, being the strong lady that she was, would turn him away with gentle firmness and continue to care for him just as she did now. There was a certain peace in knowing the future.

"I cannot tell you now," he finally replied, "but I promise you that I will someday."

Nessúlë would have persisted had she not seen the calm look that settled on Elrohir's features. Apparently the cloud had passed.

She shrugged and ended the conversation with, "Well, I respect your honesty… But be warned, I will hold you to your promise."

Adjusting the small pack of provisions that he carried on his shoulders, Elrohir flashed Nessúlë a pleasant grin. "Yes, I know."

The two Elves fell into easy, meandering conversation as they ascended from the valley.

"""""

"Elrohir, stop it! I can't– I can't breath–" Nessúlë broke off as another wave of laughter consumed her.

To better enjoy the grand view, the pair had climbed a stout tree that leant over the ravine and Nessúlë was beginning to feel that she would loose her balance and fall from her perch if the mirth continued. She couldn't even remember what they were laughing about, exactly. Elrohir had been recounting a story of his outrageous childhood and they had both started laughing over it and then teasing each other and throwing bits of bark in each other's hair. Then Elrohir tickled her ribs with a stick, and it was as if they were children once more and laughter took control of every moment, turning the whole world into a source of merriment.

Heedless of her warning, Elrohir jumped lightly down onto a branch beneath where she sat and began to pass a leaf lightly across the sole of her bare foot. With what was to Elrohir's mind a delightful squeal, Nessúlë pulled that foot up and out of his reach. When he attacked her other foot in the same fashion she yanked that up as well, only this time it truly did put her balance in jeopardy. With both legs pulled up and her arms wrapped around them she had nothing to act as a counterbalance for her, and even as she laughed she could feel herself slipping sideways.

Strangely enough she made no noise when she lost her seat, merely grabbed frantically at another branch as her body slipped over. Her hand pressed against wood for a brief moment, but then slipped off, the thick branch providing nothing to truly grasp. In a moment of terror Nessúlë truly thought that she would fall to the very narrow strip of ground beneath her and slither over the cliff's edge. Her fears were soon laid to rest, however, as she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. Unfortunately, her fears were revived once more as she realized that plucking a full-grown Elf from mid-air as they are plummeting downward it not the easiest thing to do.

Elrohir, having had no time to prepare, was himself pulled off balance. With one arm around her waist, he desperately tipped, jumped, swung, and eventually toppled his way to the ground, thankfully at a safe distance from the cliff edge. And, being the gentleman that he was, he had even found a way to land beneath Nessúlë, absorbing most of the jarring impact. For several moments the Elves lay there, frozen in shock.

Elrohir was dizzy, winded by the fall, and trying to recover from one of the worst scares of his life. It was therefore something of a miracle when he finally managed to croak out, "What kind of Elf are you?"

Nessúlë shivered and tightened her grip on Elrohir's shirt. "N-n-not a Silvan one."

A ridiculous, strangled sort of laugh flew out of Elrohir's mouth, but neither Elf was fooled by it. Without reservation Elrohir brought his free arm up around Nessúlë and held her tightly to him. Nessúlë, numbed to thoughts of propriety, willingly let him do it, her eyes scrunched closed and her head buried in his tunic.

Neither Elf could tell afterward how long they lay there. All they knew was that the moment fell apart when a crow descended onto the tree above them and let out a sharp cry. In that instant, Elrohir and Nessúlë both became fully aware of their position. On instinct, Elrohir was about to withdraw his arms, but then he decided to wait, to see what Nessúlë will do.

Truth be told, he did not in the least expect what came next. He had imagined she might simply push off him, or ask him to let her go. Instead, she opened her eyes and looked curiously at the hand that clenched his tunic, as though she were deciding whether or not it was her own. Then, very slowly she lifted her head enough to catch a glimpse of his face and paused, looking up at a rather awkward angle into his eyes.

Several seconds slipped away. Nessúlë mentally chided herself, 'Get up! Get up quickly you silly girl!' But for some reason she couldn't do it. This puzzled her, but the mystery was soon uncovered as another side of her whispered very matter-of-factly, 'Why should I get up? I don't want to. I am quite comfortable here.' It was this thought that propelled her into motion.

Rolling unceremoniously off of Elrohir, Nessúlë got to her knees and looked around in a bewildered fashion. Her own thoughts were quite disconcerting, and she did her best to stuff them away into a very deep, very dark place. It didn't work. She kept looking nervously back at Elrohir, who remained lying on the ground, and arguing with herself about whether or not she had been comfortable there, and if she had, what it might mean.

Elrohir's mind was in a similar state of discord, though his thoughts tended in a different direction. For the first time in fourteen years a new idea had come to disrupt his settled understanding of who this _elleth_ was. He was not at all sure that he could interpret Nessúl's expression correctly, but he knew this much – it had been anything but indifferent. For a few precious moments Nessúlë had looked at him in a decidedly different way, and Elrohir determined then to discover what it all meant.

"Thank you, Elrohir."

A timid voice pierced Elrohir's contemplation. He turned his head to look at Nessúlë. Her eyes were bright and wide, still looking somewhat dazed. He sat up slowly, still rather stiff from the fall, and tried to reach for her hand, but a subtle shift in her stance made him hesitate and withdraw.

"You are _most_ welcome, lady. But I must beg your pardon for my own foolish antics."

Nessúlë shook her head. "Nay, it was not your fault."

An uncertain silence hung between them for a moment.

"Did you…?" Nessúlë looked directly into Elrohir's eyes but then turned away, leaving her words unfinished.

"What were you going to say?" Elrohir asked gently.

Nessúlë shook her head. "I cannot tell you." An almost merry light illuminated her eyes as she continued, "But I promise that I will… someday."

Elrohir smiled then shook his head in amazement. "We are incredibly fortunate, you and I."

Running a hand through her disheveled hair Nessúlë softly replied, "Yes, in more ways than one."

Elrohir did not inquire as to her meaning. Instead, he noted both of their mussed and dusty appearances and suggested that he show her someplace where they could calm down as well as clean off. And thankfully, no trees would be involved. Nessúlë agreed quite willingly. And so, when she had put her shoes back on, Elrohir picked up his satchel and began leading the way back down into the ravine, trying not to appear shaken by the recent events.

"""""

By the time Nessúlë and Elrohir had traversed the steep trail once again their moods were much improved. Nessúl's because she was thankful to be alive and quick to learn the art of explaining away her previously trouble emotions. And Elrohir's because he was growing more and more intrigued by the possibility that his grandfather was right: that Nessúlë wasn't as simple as he had made her out to be – that perhaps the future was not set in stone.

Of course, this added a whole new layer of complexity to his situation, but it also added a spark of hope. He could not yet bring himself to imagine that there would be a happy ending for him, but there could certainly be an unexpected one.

And so, with many laughs and smiles that neither Elf attempted to interpret, they drew close to Elrohir's suggested destination: the _Anorlín_, or Sun Pool in the Common Tongue. The pool was so named for two reasons. The first was that the course of the wide stream entering and leaving the pool created a gap in the trees which mirrored the course of the summer sun, allowing light to fall on the pool from morning till night, despite the forest around it. The second reason was that the floor of the pool was embedded with clusters of fool's gold, which glittered and sparkled through the clear water.

When they reached the pool both Elrohir and Nessúlë were ready for a dip. Between traipsing through the forest, climbing ravine walls, and tumbling out of trees, the two Elves were dirty, weary, and warm.

With childlike glee Nessúlë sat down on the pool's edge and took her soft boots off, letting her feet dangle in the water. She closed her eyes and swished around a bit, reveling in the feel of the cool liquid against her toes. Elrohir smiled at her contentment and sat down beside her, beginning to unlace his own boots.

"Are you hungry?" Elrohir asked after the first boot came off. He gestured toward his bag, which held some bread and cheese. "There's a small grove of apple trees nearby if you would like that better."

Nessúlë shook her head as she unlaced her outer tunic and slipped it over her head. "I am not hungry, really. Perhaps in a little while."

Without further ado she slid into the pool, thankful that she had worn her brown under tunic, which would not reveal too much when wet. Elrohir took off his other boot and was about to join her when he inquired whether she minded if he took off his under tunic.

Nessúlë laughed cheerfully. "I am part of the guard now, Elrohir, I have seen many shirtless _ellons_."

Elrohir was not sure if he liked the idea of her seeing "many" shirtless males, but decided that it would be best not to comment.

There is some delightful property of water that makes everyone act a little less dignified than they are wont to. Elrohir and Nessúlë were no exception. They had always had a bantering, playful relationship, which had already floated to the surface once that day while they were in the tree, and the water only amplified this potential.

Elrohir started it when, sneaking up behind Nessúlë as she struggled to undo her long braid, he dunked her unmercifully into the pool. However, Nessúlë was no fainting maiden. She was almost as strong as he was, and had a tenacity to rival any males. Not many minutes had passed before Elrohir slid laughing onto a rock shelf, submerged beneath the water, and leant back on the pool's bank, admitting defeat.

"Do you always win, lady?" he inquired, tossing a leaf into the water and watching as it swirled in the gentle currents of the pool.

Nessúlë smirked, her face held just above the water. "Whenever possible, yes."

A very dangerous thought crept into Elrohir's mind and he acted on it before his better judgement could interfere. "Then… I suppose you will never marry." The Elf tried to keep a light bantering tone in his voice.

Nessúlë furrowed her brows. "What makes you say that?"

Elrohir let his hands trail in the water. "Well, I suppose because I have always heard it said that marriage is made of compromise – giving yourself over to another. You couldn't win in such a situation, at least not all the time."

Nessúlë smiled slowly, seeming to accept the idea that Elrohir was playing at a game of wit.

"Ah, but isn't it also said that marriage makes two hearts into one? We would thus be able to share victory."

Chuckling softly, Elrohir vacated his seat and swam closer to Nessúlë, trying to ignore the nervous exhilaration that was pooling in his stomach. "Then you are not opposed to marriage?" He sighed dramatically. "I'm afraid I shall be forced to repaint your character then."

Nessúlë looked a little ruffled. "Do you mean to say… that you could not see me as a wife?" There was a certain vulnerability in her look which Elrohir was at a lost to understand. But to an onlooker it might have been simple: Here was a lady who, though she had lived an unorthodox life, had grown up on the same fairy tales as other young girls. To her marriage may have seemed like a nebulous, far off ideal, but it was still an ideal. And to be told that she didn't fit into that vague dream was a little disconcerting.

Elrohir knew that he had made some sort of blunder, but wasn't certain how to fix it. He tried to explain as best he could.

"It's not that I… I mean… Binding yourself to someone is… Well, it's like finding your missing piece. And you," Elrohir examined Nessúl's expression as he scoured his mind, "You don't seem to be missing anything. You're so strong." His eyes dropped to the water as he finished. 'And so perfect,' he added to himself.

Nessúlë did not reply for some time, but when she did her tone was light. "Elrohir, what silly thoughts you have. You think because I am a… well, a shield maiden of sorts, that I do not need anything? What of your own grandmother – she is many times stronger than I am, and yet she needed Lord Celeborn, as he needed her. There are many kinds of need, and many kinds of strength. An oak tree is strong, but it bends in the wind and gains a new beauty and dignity that it did not have before. You know as well as I that the trees revel in the wind, even though they do not control the dance. That is like love, I imagine."

Elrohir's heart thrummed loudly in his ears. "Then you… yearn for a mate?"

A long, clear laugh filled the air. "I did not say that, now did I? In this you shall not have to repaint my character. I am no pining maiden, if that is what you mean. I am content to wait for the right time. Though I will say this: when it comes I will not be displeased."

Soon Nessúlë got out of the pool and began twining some nearby wildflowers into her hair. When Elrohir joined her, lying down to dry, she playfully stuck a daisy behind his ear but he pulled it off and tossed it at her. Seriousness had passed.

When the two Elves began the return journey their clothes were still hopelessly wet and they continued to drip water all the way back to the Halls. But not even wet breeches could dampen Elrohir's spirits. For that afternoon he had uncovered a precious gift in the woods: hope.

* * *

Things to Know:

Nessúlë [ness-OO-ley]: "young spirit"

Anorlín [ahn-OR-leen]: "sun pool"

mellon: "friend"

ellon: "elf (male)"

elleth: "elf (female)"

"""""

Sorry, bratprincess. I know you wanted more of the bird. = ) I'll try to fit him in in the next chapter, K?

Iluvien


	6. Mystery

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 6.) Mystery

"""""

Oh! Who would inhabit this bleak world alone?

Thomas Moore 

"""""

Nessúlë tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear as her feet met up with the main path. After visiting one of the tended vegetable gardens she had headed into the woods to pick wild leeks. Her harvest had been quite successful and she was now heading back to the Halls, unaware that a pair of hidden eyes had watched her for the past half-hour.

A ringing cry above her caused Nessúlë to look up through the twined branches of the trees. She spied Bainsúl floating lazily on the currents of the brisk wind and smiled as he turned and careened down through the branches toward her. But her smile faded into a curious frown when, instead of coming to land on her shoulder, the young hawk dove onto something in the path ahead of her. As Bainsúl stretched his wings and fluttered his feathers back into place the object remained hidden from view. But as the bird tucked its wings back against its side and hopped to the left, the soft blossom of a blood red rose came into view.

Nessúlë paused in her walk. This was a wild, untamed part of the valley, far away from any rose bushes. Walking up to the flower and bending down beside it, Nessúlë inspected the petals. It looked as though it had just been picked. With careful fingers, Nessúlë picked up the thorny stem and brought the blossom to her nose. As she took in the gentle scent her hand absently reached out to stroke Bainsúl's feathers.

"It is a strange sight, isn't it, _nethmellonen_ {my young friend}."

Bainsúl rewarded her remark by hopping out of reach and flapping his way down onto another object a few feet ahead on the path. With a careless smile, Nessúlë picked up her basket of vegetables and wandered over to see what else her bird had found. She was very surprised when she discovered a delicate gold pendent dangling from his beak.

"What have we here?" Nessúlë reached out for the trinket and Bainsúl reluctantly let her take it from him. A quick smile flashed across her face as she saw what it was.

From the golden chain, accented with red glass beads, hung a very unexpected object: a charm shaped in the form of a sand dollar, about an inch in diameter. Such things were generally not seen in the Hidden Valley, for the sea and all it contained were as far off to the Elves of Imladris as an ethereal dream. But to her, the necklace brought back many happy memories, of her childhood in Mithlond, and her family's home by the shore.

'Whose can this be?' she wondered, 'Most of the Elves who still live here have never even been to the sea before.'

Her thoughts were interrupted by another flurry of feathers. She shook her head in wonder. What more was there to discover on this infrequently trodden path?

Without waiting for her to come to him, Bainsúl picked up the new discovery in his talons and brought it back to Nessúlë, dropping it into her outstretched hand. It was a small rolled up piece of paper. At this point Nessúl's curiosity would have given out (for she could not justify reading what might very well be a personal note) had she not seen her name scrawled across the outside in the Mannish alphabet.

For a few moments Nessúlë merely stared at the paper in her hands, and then at the rose and the pendent which she had laid in her basket. Something about this whole situation was very odd. She wondered for a moment if it was some trick of Elrohir's. There was only one way to find out. With wary fingers Nessúlë unrolled the note and perused its contents.

Na i'gwen o i'ëar {To the Maiden of the Sea},

I beg you to accept these tokens. The necklace is of your homeland and the rose is of this hidden valley. Know that, to the eyes of one, your beauty outshines the wonders of both realms and will live forever undimmed in memory.

Nessúlë felt her cheeks grow warm. Who had done this? She did not recognize the handwriting and there was no indication of who had gifted her with these things. For a fraction of a moment Nessúlë was aware of a feeling of delicious wonder, but it was soon overpowered by a growing sense of annoyance.

'It's just a trick. I'll wager Elrohir is trying to capture blushes. I'll not have it.'

* * *

Elrohir slipped from the woods a moment before one of his old friends, walking up from the south fountain with two filled water jugs, came along the path. The Elves greeted one another, but Elrohir was soon left alone as the other Elf moved on toward the scullery with his load. In solitude, Elrohir wandered slowly around to the western side of the Halls, and ducked through an archway into a covered walk. He discovered a pleasant surprise there. Arinel sat on a low stone bench, cradling her infant daughter in her arms.

"Lady Arinel, I did not expect to see you. Has my brother finally allowed you to be up and about?"

Arinel smiled wickedly. "Nay, lord. But you will not tell him, will you? I feel quite recovered from the delivery, and I believe that it does me well to be outside in the fresh air. Lairossë also seems to find it very agreeable, for she has been so peaceful this evening.

Elrohir was in a fine mood and so he did not hesitate to join Arinel and amuse her with what wit he had. A few minutes after he sat down, Lairossë stirred and began to beg for attention. With awed gentleness he took the young one from Arinel's arms when she offered to let him hold the child. This was only the third newborn that Elrohir had ever known, and so he had been lost the first time that he looked into her blue eyes, and he remained smitten even now.

Arinel watched Elrohir affectionately as he held her child. She decided that it would be incredibly amusing to see his reaction when Elladan and Oloriel's child arrived, considering how enamoured he was with Lairossë.

After a few moments of silence, Elrohir's attention was drawn from the infant as he felt something being plucked from his hair. Arinel eyed him curiously as she held up a dried piece of leaf.

"Where did this come from?" she inquired, "I thought you were to be held in counsel for most of the day, or so said my husband. When did you have time to lollop about in the forest?"

Elrohir shifted his eyes away from her. "I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I told you it floated down into my hair, would you?"

Arinel laughed as she twirled the crinkled, obviously long-dead leaf in her fingers. "Nay."

"Well, my lady, you must admit that with such a small community there is not nearly so much to speak about as there was of old. The counsel was adjourned earlier than planned."

"That still doesn't explain why you went roaming about the forest in your ceremonial robes," Arinel remarked astutely.

"Perhaps I didn't have time to change," Elrohir replied ambiguously.

This was the only answer that Arinel could draw from him, even when she threatened to take Lairossë away from him. She had seen that twinkle in Elrohir's eyes before. He was up to something.

* * *

Celeborn sat back and watched in amusement as Nessúlë came trudging up the path, seeming to be holding an argument with herself. Her features were flushed and everything about her spoke agitation. He had been observing her for some time as she had come down the far slope and up the rise toward the Halls. He had also seen her hawk fly away after some more amusing company, apparently bored with her one-sided mutterings.

Being situated largely behind a lilac bush, Celeborn was hidden from casual glances, and so Nessúlë would have walked right by without noticing him had not he called out to her.

"Peace, child. What irks you so?"

Nessúl's head flew to the side, mahogany hair swaying fiercely, as she searched through the nearby greenery. Her eyes soon alighted on the silver lord and she inclined her head to him before making to continue.

"Hold."

Nessúlë paused and turned back to Celeborn.

"I have asked you a question and it would be most rude of you to ignore my inquiry" he chided gently, "Besides, you look in need of a confidante."

Her first thought was to stubbornly resist, but there really wasn't much point in the end, since it was all a big joke anyway. She might as well vent some steam.

"Your grandson is a trickster, my lord," she declared vehemently.

Celeborn's eyebrows raised and he pursed his lips slightly. "This I know. Which one do we speak of and what has he done to you?"

Nessúlë tried not to pout, but it was very hard to do. "Elrohir has played a most ungenerous trick upon me and baited me with a hook that precious few maidens are wholly immune to. I am not taken in, but I am quite disgruntled."

As she spoke these words she waved the curled piece of paper in the air. Celeborn motioned her over to where he was sitting on the grass.

"Will you let me look?" he asked gently.

Nessúlë petulantly threw the note in his lap and sat down across from the former Lord of Lothlórien. A few moments passed as Celeborn read the lines with a thoughtful air. Finally, he looked up and eyed the maiden closely.

"What tokens are these?"

Nessúlë reached into her hamper and plucked out the rose and the necklace for his inspection. Celeborn recognized the necklace, but said nothing about it.

"And you believe that Elrohir has played some trick upon you?"

Nessúlë huffed. "Who else could it be? I cannot recognize the handwriting for the Mannish script, but really… what else is to be deduced?"

Celeborn smiled knowingly. "Perhaps we may deduce that you have captivated someone in this valley, that he has yet to find the courage to approach you on equal terms, and that he would presently have you know of his regard in some small way."

It could not be denied that Nessúl's jaw visibly dropped. "You believe… this to be a truth?" she asked, baffled.

Celeborn handed the letter back gently. "I _know_ that my grandson would not play false in such a way with any lady, not even to satisfy his mischievous nature." Getting up from where he sat he placed a comforting hand on Nessúl's hair. "I believe you have an admirer."

* * *

Nessúlë wiped her hands against her apron and looked around approvingly at what she had prepared. The fresh vegetables combined with the trout that Mirima had brought her soon after she returned to the Halls had been put to use recreating some dishes from Nessúl's homeland. She had offered to cook for her hosts the day before and was rather pleased with the results. It had been years since she did anything serious in the kitchen, but it seemed as though she still remembered.

"It is ready to serve, Mirima. Keep the trout on the warming stone, and remember… well, I suppose that's all. I'll go and change now."

Mirima smiled affably and shooed her away from the counters. Taking off her apron Nessúlë picked up her basket and left the kitchen, heading toward her room. Cautiously she looked down and saw the rose, pendent, and letter lying against the wicker. She took an uncertain breath. Celeborn's words had been plaguing her mind for the past two hours, and it had been all she could do to stay focused on her work. Could it be true? And if so, what should she do with these things?

When she reached her rooms Nessúlë changed hurriedly, not bothering to arrange her hair. She then paused and looked at the "tokens" which she had laid out on the bed. Was she pleased or displeased? Should she accept them or stuff them away in the bottom of a drawer somewhere? She couldn't think straight on the subject. Therefore, in lieu of any sound reasoning, she simply acted on impulse. Hanging the rose up on her bedpost to dry and, after a moment of uncertainty, putting the necklace on and tucking it inside her dress, Nessúlë swept out of the room before she could rethink her actions. After all, what need was there to ponder? The rose was indeed lovely and well worth keeping and the golden pendent did truly remind her of her home. And if, during the evening, the cool feel of the metal against her chest brought a mysterious smile to her face, what of it? No one would see it in any case.

"""""

After the meal, which was pronounced delicious by all, the small party moved from the private dining room to Elladan and Oloriel's sitting room. Celeborn sat down with Oloriel's harp and began plucking out gentle, drifting melodies, and Elladan drew his wife into a corner to massage her aching lower back. This left Elrohir and Nessúlë to themselves, as frequently happened.

The two Elves started out the quiet evening by playing a game of strategy not unlike chess. It was as Elrohir began to press in on Nessúlë and jeopardize her position that she felt her impatience grow and the urge to speak become unconquerable.

"You weren't in the southern woods today, were you?" she inquired pointedly.

"Yes, actually, I was." Elrohir casually made his next move, as though her question had been of no consequence.

Nessúlë was taken back by his answer. If he were attempting to fool her, would he admit this or deny it? How would he go about his deception? She wanted to press him for more information, but she quickly lost her nerve. She didn't want to know the truth. This thought shocked her, but she couldn't deny it. It would seem a shame if it were all a joke in the end. Of course, either way it was a silly affair and nothing could come of it… but it was nicer to think that it was real than that Elrohir would do such a thing to her. After several conflicted moments past, in which she attempted to appear like she was pondering her next move, she shook her head and decided to let the issue past. Perhaps it was nothing.

Elrohir gazed on her thoughtfully as she raked the playing board with her eyes. He could read indecision plainly on her face and wondered which side would win out. He let his eyes wander back to the board as she shook her head, but he did not miss the glint of red and gold that peeked out from inside the collar of her dress.

* * *

1. Nessúl's second name is Ëarwen = 'Sea Maiden'

2. Arinel showed up in "To Dream" a couple of times.

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

Arinel: "morning star"

Lairossë: "summer rain"

Mirima: "free"

neth-mellon-en: "young-friend-my"

"""""

Iluvien


	7. The Perplexing Nature of Poetry

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

A/N: A lot of people are assuming that Elrohir is the secret admirer. Are you sure??? evil author laughter

* * *

Chapter 7.) The Perplexing Nature of Poetry 

"""""

_if day_

_has to become night_

_this is a beautiful way_

e. e. cummings

"""""

Aug 8, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë put down her book with a contented smile. It had ended happily. She hated stories with morose endings – they reminded her too much of darker times.

"You look very pleased with yourself." Mírea, a younger _elleth_ who often haunted the library, came out from behind a nearby bookcase, tome in hand.

Nessúl's smile grew wider. She had become rather fond of the bookish maiden.

"Yes, Mírea, I am very pleased. I have spent a delightful morning with the last selection you gave me and am very satisfied with the ending. It makes me feel like laughing."

Mírea shook her head knowingly and sat down across from Nessúlë on a blanketed divan. She picked up the pot of tea on a small table between them and poured herself a cup.

"You are quite amusing to me, Nessa. I know very well that you looked at the ending before taking my advice to read it; the conclusion can't have come as a surprise to you. Why then this giddiness?"

Nessúlë laughed as she gently closed the book and got up to set it back on the shelf. "Oh, but the journey was delicious. And I only knew that the tone of the ending was happy. I didn't know all the particulars."

Mírea shook her head again and opened the history she had picked out, not bothering to take leave of Nessúlë before she began reading. Nessúlë was not put off in the slightest. Their young friendship had thus far revolved entirely around the library, and there was no ceremony to stand upon. Without further ado, Nessúlë left in search of more vigorous exercise.

* * *

Elrohir's unmistakable chuckle vibrated in the air as he came pushing through layer upon layer of damp, white linen. Many of the single _ellith_ laughed gaily, or blushed demurely as this lord among Elves pressed his way into their feminine gathering, but the older ladies, with clothespins clasped to their aprons, just shook their heads and looked knowingly at one another. 

As the day was very fine, Elrohir willingly, and with good humor, entertained the maidens for a few minutes with his charming smile and playful wit. But he soon took gentle leave of them and inquired where he might locate the lady which he had set out to find. Having been directed to move on through another forest of hanging laundry he departed, ducking between breeches and tunics as he went.

The directions were sound. Within but a few moments Elrohir's head poked out into a glade of billowing sheets, and there, with a large bundle of damp laundry at her feet, sat the end of his searching, dressed in simple off-white cotton and perched on a low wooden stool. Her dark hair was slipping out of the knot it had been tied in, but she looked none the worse for it.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, his brows brunching together as he observed Nessúlë unexpected occupation.

Nessúlë smiled but did not look up at him. She dunked the light blue bodice she had been holding into a bucket of warm water between her feet and rubbed powered soap into the berry stain along the hem. Since he received no reply, Elrohir indulged himself by simply watching in fascination as she worked. Her hands were lithe and skilled, moving deftly about their task. Trails of water ran unchecked down her elbows, wetting the sleeves that would not, for all Nessúl's efforts, stay safely pushed up her arms. Her shorter working dress showed a glimpse of sun-kissed legs and delicate ankles being caressed by the verdant grass. While her reckless hair, warm and fragrant, kept trailing down along her cheek, taunting Elrohir mercilessly and simply begging to be touched"". Averting his eyes firmly, Elrohir stared at the flowered pattern of a bed sheet and attempted to regroup his senses.

"What do you imagine I am doing, son of Elrond?" Nessúlë finally replied as she laid the petticoat aside. "Can you not guess?"

Elrohir took a deep breath and stepped out from the sheet, parting them with his hands.

"Do not trail your hands on the laundry," Nessúlë reprimanded, a little more sharply than she had intended, "you should know better. Where have you come from?"

Sitting down beside Nessúl's stool Elrohir rubbed his hands unconsciously against his breeches. "I was at the archery ranges."

"Well," she replied in a conciliatory fashion, "I suppose your hands can't be too dirty then. I know you tend to your bow well."

Elrohir was not sure if he should take this as a compliment. He decided to ignore the issue.

"I ask again, what are you doing? – Now don't give me that look. I am well aware of _what_ you are doing, but why are you doing it?"

Nessúlë chuckled softly and threw a damp shirtsleeve over Elrohir's head. "I wanted to be of some use. A holiday is all well and good, but one does not want to be idle for too long. At least I do not. I asked Mirima if there was anything that I could put my hands to."

Elrohir smiled broadly and looked up at Nessúlë, who because of the stool, was a full foot above him. "I didn't know that I could think any better of you, Nessúlë, but your confession has raised you even further in my esteem. I often wish that I were more industrious. But if I recall, you have not always been this way. You were willing enough to relax when you first came to Imladris."

Smiling jovially, Nessúlë retrieved the shirtsleeve from where it had slipped down onto Elrohir's shoulder. "Aye, I was more than willing to rest at that time. However, life is a deal more settled now that it was then. And I was recovering from an injury during part of my stay… But what is this you speak of? You are very industrious as far as I can tell. All of your people speak very highly of you."

The woolen sock which lay nearby was too tempting – Elrohir picked it up and tossed it at Nessúlë. She merely chuckled and flicked it off.

"I am very glad to hear it," Elrohir finally replied, leaning back on his hands and enjoying the smell of the clean wash. "But I only do what I must. There are few constructive things that I do on impulse."

Nessúlë got up from her stool to hang a few more pieces of treated laundry up. "And what are they," she called back as she began draping a pillow sham over the line. As she dealt with the rest of her load up she waited expectantly for an answer. It was delayed in coming.

"Archery, killing evil creatures, acquainting myself with other languages, reading a few of the histories, caring for my friends… writing. Although killing evil creatures is the only thing I have done with enduring vigilance."

Nessúlë came back and sat down on her stool. "That seems well enough to me. You are dutiful in fulfilling your role here and you should not be hard on yourself if you take opportunity to rest and enjoy life as well. I merely do not enjoy myself when I have been idle for too long... Did you say writing?" Nessúl's mind jumped to another plane, "What sorts of things do you write?"

Elrohir smiled secretively. "That is not for the present moment, I think. I have shown very few people what I write."

Nessúlë tried hard to keep the pettiness from her voice. "You don't trust me to–"

"No, no, nothing like that," Elrohir assured her. "Now just isn't the right time, I believe."

With a resigned shrug Nessúlë reached down to take a few more things from the laundry bundle but paused when she spied a sealed letter that had been hidden beneath a dark green skirt. Her name was written on the outside, again in Mannish script, though slightly blurry due to the moisture. A sudden flush pervaded her cheek and she looked away quickly. Gingerly, Elrohir picked up the note and eyed it thoughtfully.

"What is this?" he asked softly.

Nessúlë muttered something unintelligible under her breath and then turned back to him. Her chin was set resolutely.

"I will not lie to you, _mellon_. It is another letter, one of several, from someone who I am unable to name. Someone who… who seems to… admire me."

Elrohir cocked an eyebrow and very slowly handed the note to Nessúlë, who was trying desperately to look nonchalant. Having no logical reason to delay, she broke the seal and opened the letter. She hoped that Elrohir would not detect the slight air of anticipation which she was sure must be hanging about her. It was hard to remain neutral toward the idea of being wooed by a mysterious suitor, no matter how much she was rationally opposed to the idea.

The note read as follows:

Na i'gwen o i'ëar {To the Maiden of the Sea},_I am not convinced that these lines do you justice, for there is nothing frail about you, but they were on my heart. A maiden is often recreated in the mind of the one who holds her in his heart. I hope that you do not find me overly presumptuous._

_Somewhere I have never traveled before, beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence_

_In your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, things which I cannot touch because they are too near_

_Your slightest look will easily unclose me though I have closed myself as fingers_

_You open me always petal by petal as Spring skillfully, mysteriously opens her first rose_

_Or, if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very suddenly_

_As when the heart of a flower imagines the cold frost everywhere descending_

_I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens me_

_Only something in me understands_

_The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses._

_Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands_""

Nessúl's hands trembled almost imperceptibly as she lowered the letter to her lap. She felt oddly flustered.

'No one has ever written a poem for me,' she thought wistfully before chiding herself with vehemence for her own simpering folly. 'Don't be such a simpleton!' She sighed sharply but could not keep the bloom from spreading on her cheek. 'The fellows at home would be most amused to see me now – I'm acting like a tittering maiden.'

Elrohir watched carefully as a host of emotions darted across Nessúlë face. He was unsure what she was thinking.

"Does he grow on you?" he inquired hesitantly.

Nessúlë looked up quickly then brought her gaze back to the note in her lap. Elrohir's voice held a mystery which she was entirely too muddled to sort out. It was as though he were unusually anxious for her answer.

"Well, I… don't know," she finally replied, smoothing out the parchment against her knees. "I… I don't know."

Nessúlë met Elrohir's eyes once more, bewildered. "Elrohir, he," she held up the note pitifully, "he wrote me a poem." She seemed dazed.

"And does that displease you?" Elrohir's voice was unusually soft.

Nessúlë shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

* * *

"Are you sure they will be alright?" Nessúlë inquired anxiously as she observed the rigid way in which Oloriel handed a cup of after-dinner tea to her husband. Apparently, the couple had had some sort of tiff that afternoon. 

Elrohir smiled softly. "Yes, they'll be fine. They never go to bed angry, it is a pact they made with each other after their first real argument as newlyweds."

Nessúlë shook her head wonderingly. "I could never have imagined them fighting until now. It seems so unnatural."

"Aye, it is," Elrohir agreed as he and Nessúlë moved out onto the veranda to enjoy the blazing sunset and get away from the tense atmosphere inside. "But it is also unavoidable. One can't be decorous all the time; everyone has the potential for pettiness."

"I suppose… no, I know you are right," Nessúlë nodded. "I have done enough foolish things in my life to understand that."

Elrohir chuckled. "You do something foolish? Nay, the wise shield maiden of East Lorien could never be so rash."

"How do you think I gained my wisdom?" the dark-haired _elleth_ shot back blithely, beginning to push against the floor with her foot so that the hanging swing they sat upon would rock back and forth. Her attempts weren't very successful as Elrohir's long legs anchored them hopelessly to the ground.

"Move your feet, you great lout," Nessúlë chided affectionately.

Elrohir's eyebrows rose in surprise. "A fine way to treat your companion in crime," he scoffed.

That afternoon, after some stammering and self-conscious delay, Nessúlë had finally worked up the courage to ask Elrohir to read the mystery poem. She had wanted to know if it was original, or if it was merely pulled up from an old book somewhere (_why_ she wished to know this was a point on which she would not converse, even with herself). She had also wanted Elrohir's help in deciphering whose hand might have written it. On the first count, Elrohir had declared it to be, as far as he knew, an original work. On the second count neither had any luck. The admirer's identity remained a mystery.

"Do you…?" Elrohir's voice trailed off and he stared uncomfortably out into the gloaming. The trees were awash in golden hues, their light echoed by the fireflies that were hovering within the darkened margins of the wood.

"What were you going to say?" Nessúlë whispered several moments later. A calm had descended on the valley and for some reason it felt wrong to her to disturb the evening peace. Inside she could hear soft murmuring and guessed that Elladan and Oloriel must be reconciling with one another. Before Elrohir replied, Nessúlë slowly turned around and looked back into the sitting room.

Oloriel was leaning into Elladan's embrace while the Elf stroked her hair and whispered words of apology in her ear. Oloriel shook her head rather like a child and declared softly that, no, she had been wrong, not him. Nessúl's smiled but looked discreetly away as Elladan leant down to claim a kiss from his wife. She caught Elrohir's gaze as she turned back toward the sunset.

"Does this secret admirer turn your mind toward," he glanced back inside quickly, "toward thoughts of… having another?"

Nessúlë bit her lip and looked out at the purple clouds. It was some minutes before she spoke.

"I will not deny that this little adventure has piqued my interest," she replied slowly and thoughtfully, "Whatever it is that surrounds your brother and sister-in-law must be a wondrous thing. To know that you will always be forgiven, always be comforted and supported, continually inspired… loved. …This is the dearest blessing, I believe. I had always looked to my brother for these things, but it seems that he has found a deeper vein. Do I want to share in this discovery as well?" she sighed. "It is very beguiling."

This was all that she would say. A few minutes later she bid good night and went to her room.

Having put on a light nightgown, she walked over to her window and, pushing aside the gauzy curtains to let a timid breeze in, pulled the crinkled letter from her pocket and read the poem once more. Without thought, her mouth curved up in a tender smile. Perhaps, at that very moment, there was someone else standing at his window, thinking of her and watching the stars wheel overhead. Perhaps.

A giddy shiver went up her spine and Nessúlë turned from the window with an amused shake of the head. With a sigh she went to her bed and lay the letter down on her nightstand, beside the other tokens that she had received over the past several days. A dried rose, a peacock quill, a handmade leather book, a minute crystal bottle filled with scented oil, a small dagger, and several notes. She let her hand trail over these and then brought it up to finger the golden chain at her neck. It was almost offensive to be wooed so by gifts, to be bought. And yet, there was a thoughtfulness behind each gift, an understanding of what would please her, and always a short note explaining why this or that was chosen.

As she slipped into bed Nessúlë impulsively placed the poem under her pillow, blowing out her candle before she could change her mind. As the crickets chirped lazily under her window and the stars winked down at her, Nessúlë drifted off to sleep thinking of poetry and sunsets and possibilities. There would be enough time for thinking reasonably when the morning came.

As I have heard it told, Tolkien's Elves found hair to be very alluring. The poem was written by e. e. cummings, though I have done some very noticeable editing to make is seem a little less modern and thus more possibly Elvish.

* * *

""As I have heard it told, Tolkien's Elves found hair to be very alluring. 

""The poem was written by e. e. cummings, though I have done some very noticeable editing to make is seem a little less modern and thus more possibly Elvish.

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "elf knight"

--- 'el' is a short version of 'Eldar'=Elf

--- 'rohir' is literally "horse lord" but Tolkien specified that the intended interpretation was "knight"

Mírea: "glittering"

Mirima: "free"

mellon: "friend"

"""""

Iluvien


	8. Brink of Discovery

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 8.) Brink of Discovery

"""""

Hush all the loud confusion of the heart

- Rupert Brooke

"""""

Aug 14, 12 Fourth Age

"You two are in a rare mood this morning," Elladan spoke fondly as he leaned down to kiss the top of his wife's head.

Oloriel merely smiled up at her husband and then, after shooing him away, went back to talking with Nessúlë. The two _ellith_ had been whispering to each other since breakfast ended. For a passing moment Elladan keenly desired to know of what they spoke, but he pushed the feeling aside. If they wanted him to know they would tell him.

Before exiting the breakfast room Elladan cast a long-suffering look toward his grandfather, who shook his head knowingly as if to say "they will carry on" and then turned back to whatever it was he had been reading. Elladan chuckled softly and stepped from the room. When he had gone several yards down the hallway he met Elrohir.

"The ladies are in high spirits this morning," Elladan mentioned after good-mornings had been exchanged, "One would think they had been deprived of female companionship for an age. They are sharing secrets no doubt and appear quite giddy."

Elrohir smoothed his tunic, which looked like it had just been thrown on, and replied absently, "Well that's nice."

Elladan looked curiously at his brother. The Elf seemed distracted and rather unkempt. Without word Elladan reached out and straightened Elrohir's collar.

"Are you well?"

Batting away his brother's hands, Elrohir smiled crookedly and nodded. "Yes, just a little preoccupied. I am sorry that I missed breakfast."

Elladan shrugged. "It is well, there is still enough left for you. And don't rush yourself, I've decided to take your place in the council today."

Elrohir looked up in surprise, a silent question on his face.

"I know that you have not enjoyed carrying my duties since Oloriel has been pregnant. She will be well enough without me this day and I think you will use the time wisely. Araucon has requested a reassignment of guards along the southwest wall of the valley. I would appreciate it if you met with him this afternoon at the fifth guard-post, but other than that your time is your own."

Elrohir grinned broadly. He had not spoken with his good friend Araucon in some time, and he knew that his brother knew this. It was a welcome task.

After parting ways with Elladan, Elrohir moved down the hallways and entered the room with a stirring of trepidation. Celeborn was just getting up from his chair and setting his book aside. The two _ellith_ were, as predicted, conversing with each other in inaudible tones on the settee in the corner. When Elrohir walked up to the breakfast table, Nessúlë and Oloriel both looked up and then glanced questioningly at one another.

"Perhaps you will be let into their confidence," Celeborn said mysteriously before walking through a curtained doorway into the gardens below.

Elrohir selected a peach for the fruit basket, but did not eat it. Instead, he let his hands play with it and turned to the ladies.

"What is all this whispering about? Apparently you have driven all the other males away." Elrohir grinned and put the untouched peach back on the table. "You won't find me so timid."

Nessúlë grinned self-consciously. "Well, you already know some of it, so I suppose…"

"Yes," Oloriel remarked, "I do wonder that _you_ knew so much before I did."

"New what?" Elrohir inquired.

Oloriel picked up a folded piece of paper and waved it in the air. "The admirer."

Elrohir's face stilled and he shifted to lean against the table behind him. "Ah yes, him."

After receiving an encouraging nod from Nessúlë, Oloriel continued. "Apparently he wants to meet her, face to face, tonight."

"Tonight?"

Nessúlë twisted the napkin she was holding in her lap and bit her lip. Her expression hung somewhere between exasperation and excitement. "Yes," she sighed loudly, "You see, that is my dilemma. Oloriel has been urging me to go, and I cannot deny that I am very… curious. But doesn't it seem foolish to you?" Nessúlë gazed at Elrohir with expectant eyes.

Elrohir did not answer for a moment. He picked the peach back up and began tossing it from hand to hand. Finally he broke the silence, his eyes remaining on the fruit. "What will you do if he asks you for a return of affection?"

Nessúlë blushed slightly, but Elrohir did not see it. "I… I've decided not to worry about that yet. It seems that I will have to meet him before I can come to any conclusions. You know, see what happens."

Elrohir looked up and out through a window. "Then I suggest," he paused and his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. "I suggest that you do whatever you are ready to do. If you feel uncomfortable or insecure than do not go. If you feel prepared then meet with him."

Nessúlë nodded slowly. "Thank you, that is very sensible. I did so want to hear your thoughts on the matter."

Elrohir looked directly at Nessúlë for the first time and a soft light came into his eyes. "Thank _you_, lady, for putting so much trust in me."

Oloriel smiled and got up from the settee, placing her teacup back on the breakfast table. "Well, I have several tasks to occupy my morning. Have you any planned amusement, Nessúlë, or shall you come with me?"

"I thought that I would take a long ride. Hithui has been yearning for some solid exercise over the past few days."

"Why don't you come with me," Elrohir offered, "I am riding south in a half-hour's time. I have a few words to speak with the Warden there, but it shouldn't take long. And we could stay out as long as you like."

Nessúlë readily agreed and went to change out of her light, cream-colored robes. When she departed Oloriel turned to her brother-in-law with a brilliant smile.

"I didn't think you were so sly," she teased, "sending her secret love notes. I just hope that she won't be angry with you when you tell her. … But no, she won't be angry, I don't think. For I believe that she is much more affected than she seems, almost giddy…"

Oloriel's voice trailed off as she noticed the strained set of Elrohir's shoulders and his tense jaw. "Elrohir, you are the one behind all this… aren't you?"

* * *

Nessúlë glared at Elrohir as she pulled Hithui up next to his roan stallion. "Cheater."

Elrohir's clear laughter rang through the forest. "Sore loser."

Hithui stamped his hoof and stepped into the shade of a nearby tree. Nessúlë chuckled and shook her head. "Fair enough, son of Elrond. Your steed is swift and sure-footed. Well done."

Elrohir bowed his acceptance. Then dismounted and called his horse to follow. "Come, lady, the outpost is just around the bend. We will take our repast there."

"""""

Elrohir looked out of the arrow slit and down to where Nessúlë sat with a few of the guards feasting on roasted trout. She was merrily licking her fingers as several of the Elves entertained her with lively conversation. He narrowed his eyes perceptibly as a certain _ellon_ draped his arm around Nessúl's shoulder and whispered something in her ear. Apparently it was highly amusing, for Nessúl's bright laughter could be heard wafting up into the treetops. Nonetheless, to Elrohir's great relief, she did gently nudge Elf away from her.

"That's a fine lady you've brought with you." The voice of Araucon pierced Elrohir's thoughts and he turned away from the window.

"She is the one who went with Elladan's lady to Gondor, is she not?" he continued.

Elrohir nodded. "Aye, the same."

Araucon smiled mischievously. "You should hear some of the lads speak of her. They are caught somewhere between veneration and desire. If she were not so aloof I daresay some of them would have made advances by now."

"Aloof?" Elrohir spoke softly, trying to rein in his own disgruntled emotions.

Araucon shrugged as he ordered a few papers and slipped them inside a leather cover. "She does not appear to be easily moved, does she?"

Elrohir did not reply, merely took the leather sleeve from his friend and bowed in farewell. "Till next we meet, friend Araucon."

Araucon bowed as well. "Yes, till then. …I hope you have luck with her."

Turning back from the doorway Elrohir eyed his friend warily.

"I see many things," Araucon grinned, "And I hear many more. Be well, son of Elrond."

Elrohir inclined his head and then left, shaking his head in exasperation. Was he that transparent?

"""""

Nessúlë burst into laughter at the soldier's suggestion. She swatted his arm away in a friendly manner and then shook her head jovially. "That is one of the most audacious things I have ever heard. Elrohir is certainly not in love with me. What gave you such an idea?"

The Elf turned back to his meal with a knowing smirk. "It is obvious to many, my lady."

This gave Nessúlë pause. "What do you mean?"

"You know," he raised his eyebrows, "How your friendship has survived through separation, how you are together, his manner, that sort of thing. Many see it."

Nessúlë bristled. "I do not think that there has been anything unseemly in his manner. And just because we enjoy each other's company does not mean that either one of us is in love with the other. That makes no sense. I spend just as much time with Oloriel as I do with Elrohir. How can you bandy such rumors about your lord?"

The Elf shook his head. "No, no, no. I did not mean to imply anything unbefitting. I simply meant that the way you both are when you're together has bred curiosity on this point. It's as if you both become lost to the world. But I beg your pardon. You are right, it was not my place to make any assumptions."

There was no time for Nessúlë to reply, for at that moment Elrohir came into the circle and sat down next to her.

"Enjoying your meal?" Elrohir inquired innocently.

Nessúlë felt flustered and a tad bit vulnerable under the merry eyes of the patrolmen. Who knew what they could be thinking? Unconsciously, she shifted slightly toward Elrohir, but then realized what she was doing and sat up, ramrod straight.

"It was delicious," she finally managed to reply, setting down her tin plate. "Shall we move on?"

* * *

Elrohir signaled his horse to stop and cast a withering glance at his companion. "You refuse to tell me what is wrong, don't you?"

Nessúlë wove her fingers through Hithui's mane and pursed her lips. "It is nothing, Elrohir, will you please stop being so persistent?"

The Elf looked at her for a moment and then dismounted his horse, walking off into the trees without a word. Nessúlë, caught off guard by his odd behavior, dismounted as well and slowly followed him to see where he would go. Not many minutes had passed before she found herself in an arbor of honeysuckle. Elrohir lay, eyes closed, in the middle of the fray on a bed of moss and interlacing vines. She looked down on him and could not help smiling.

"What are you dreaming of?" she asked quietly.

Elrohir smiled and patted the ground beside him. Nessúlë rolled her eyes and lay down, staring up into the green and yellow canopy that hung above her with hints of blue sky peeking through. She breathed in the sweet scent of the honeysuckle and sighed.

"One of the guardsmen said something unsettling to me, that is all. I do not want to talk about it."

Elrohir made a soft noise in his throat and nodded his head. His eyes remained closed. Nessúlë pursed her lips and waited. Quite some time passed by and still Elrohir lay there, breathing evenly. As she rested in the perfumed air and listened to the sound of Elrohir's steady breaths Nessúlë began to feel a calm settling over her. Confusion melted away and she was simply a maiden in the middle of a wood, surrounded by rich earth and blue sky, lying next to a dear friend. And it was the most natural thing in the world. She smiled. How silly to think that it would be any other way.

With childlike enthusiasm Nessúlë smiled brightly and rolled over to lay her head on Elrohir's chest. "Thank you, old friend," she whispered, "you make me feel better just by being near."

A sharp intake of breath caused Nessúlë to raise her head and look up at Elrohir curiously. And then it happened again. Just like the time on the ravine wall Nessúlë found herself unable to look away. Elrohir's brown eyes met hers steadily and both of them forgot to breathe for several moments. It was exactly where she wanted to be… no!

"Forgive me," Nessúlë finally whispered, dragging her eyes away and sitting up, "That was rather silly, wasn't it?"

She half wanted him to deny it, to say that he enjoyed having her near, but he gave no response. She set her jaw and shook her head to clear it of the fog. "Shall we be heading home then?"

Elrohir murmured something that could have been anything, but Nessúlë took it as an affirmative. Silently she rose and stepped out of the honeysuckle, leaving Elrohir behind to go and find the horses.

"""""

Elrohir watched in a turmoil of emotions as Nessúlë left the stables and went into the house. On their ride home she had declared her intention of meeting her unknown suitor to break the silence. He hadn't known how to respond. Another silence had developed, which he broke by mentioning that Oloriel had finally picked out a name for the baby should it be a girl. The rest of the journey home had been pleasant enough. But no pleasantness could erase how foolish Elrohir felt at the moment.

'Why couldn't I think of something to say?' he chided himself over and over again. 'How could I let her believe that I was somehow displeased? Stupid, Elrohir, so stupid.'

He leant his head against the post of the stall. This had to end. He had to tell her before his own uncertainty caused her more harm. His mind was set. The plan would go through, despite his misgivings. He would tell her and let her choose.

* * *

Nessúlë sat on her bed, moonbeams streaming in through the window, with the latest letter spread on the sheets before her.

…I presume to say even that I love you. Will you not at least repay my love with a glance? If your brave heart would answer this plea, come…

The words were so beguiling, so rich in wonder. Would it not be well to respond warmly to this suite? If the Elf proved himself of upright character, why not encourage it? Her confused dealings with Elrohir had convinced Nessúlë that her heart was growing wild and unpredictable in its cage. Why not release it and tame it? Then the world could be set right again. She and Elrohir would be set right again. Her place in the world would be clear, and there would be no more perplexity

With a concise nod, Nessúlë rose from her bed and selected a light cloak from her closet. It was time. A shiver ran down her spine. Would he speak poetry, hold her in his arms, kiss her? Would he be insufferable, his writing a façade? Would she… could she love him?

There was only one way to find out.

* * *

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Araucon: "swift"

Hithui: "November"

ellon: "Elf (male)"

ellith: "Elves (female)"

"""""

Iluvien


	9. Expectations

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 9.) Expectations

"""""

Yet, You may not come, O girl of a dream,

We may but pass as the world goes by

Carl Sandburg 

"""""

Aug 14, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë let her eyes trail along the ground as she swept noiselessly beneath the evergreen boughs. The cool stillness of the night air and the thick layer of pine needles beneath her feet were comforting, but they did not prevent Nessúl's heart from picking up a staccato beat. She was nearing her destination – her destiny, perhaps?

Shaking her head, Nessúlë pulled the hood of her cloak closer around her face and then let her left hand wander beneath the folds of fabric to rest against the pommel of a long knife. She was not the sort of simpleton to rendezvous with a strange man in a dark forest unprotected. And yet, she felt silly even now for taking the weapon. To walk armed into the arms of a potential lover seemed to be the crowning irony of her life.

'I have yet to lay down my sword,' she mused, 'and yet… now that it comes to it, I believe I am ready for such a measure. I have dwelt in this marshal skin of mine for a good many years, and will probably never be rid of it, but…' Her thoughts were cut off as she came out from behind a tree of immense girth and saw, in the distance, the silhouette of a cloaked Elf.

To Nessúl's surprise a shivering thrill skittered up her spine. It was he: the one who wrote so tenderly, with such wit and passion and thoughtfulness. At that moment Nessúlë was struck with the reality of it all. It was no dream – he was truly there, truly alive and breathing and wanting her.

She couldn't move a step further. What did this mean? She had never been, to the best of her knowledge, loved before, as a female. She had never loved anyone as a male. For the first time in many years Nessúlë felt downright naïve and inexperienced. What would she say? How would she act? How long would it take for her to fall in love with him? Would his first look, his first word, his first touch, be enough?

Leaning against the rough bark of a tree Nessúlë inhaled a shaky sigh. With trembling fingers she withdrew a note from the pocket in her cloak. It was the poem.

…Or, if your wish be to close me, I and my life will shut very suddenly

As when the heart of a flower imagines the cold frost everywhere descending…

Did she really have that kind of power over this Elf? Was she so very vital to him? That thought caused a tender smile to appear on her face. It was nice to be needed. But it was also very solemn. If this Elf loved her as his words proclaimed then she could harm him as well as exalt him.

Nessúlë pushed off the tree. She was decided. If this _ellon_ was as inviting as she imagined, and if her heart was able, she would accept his affection and endeavor to return it. It was fitting. There was no honor in shunning the love of a good Elf. If things did not work out than they did not work out, but she was determined that it would not be for a lack of warmth on her part.

"""""

Nessúlë worked to keep her breathing steady as she stepped out from the shadow of a gnarled Aspen. Her unknown Elf stood beside a large, etched boulder with a brown cloak covering him from head to toe. The ancient rock was carved with the tale of the Awakening"" and the Elf was running his fingers lightly along the grooves of the letters with his back turned to where Nessúlë now stood.

For several moments Nessúlë merely stared at the stranger, taking in his size and stance, his quiet movements and bowed head. He seemed to be quite a proper Elf, though she did wish that she could see his face. But, aside from sneaking about in the brush, the only way that this would happen was if she made herself known to him. Without further ado she placed her foot on a fallen branch and pressed down, snapping off several small twigs. The cloaked figure paused then reached up and drew his hood over his head. Nessúlë found it hard to refrain from pouting, for it would now be impossible to see his features plainly.

With deliberate steps the stranger turned toward Nessúlë and crossed most of the distance between them. The hood of his cloak fell low over his brow and close around his face, concealing almost everything. Without speaking, he held out a gloved right hand to her, while raising his left index finger to his lips to signal silence. Nessúlë was about to protest when a breathy chuckle escaped the Elf and he shook his head slowly, once more beckoning for her hand. With a slight roll of the eyes, but also with a faint smile, Nessúlë took the proffered hand and was led, wordlessly, toward some unknown destination.

In the months and years which followed Nessúlë was never very inclined to speak of that first journey with her mysterious lover. It was so dream-like and peaceful, strolling hand-in-hand through the dew and the silvery moonlight, that the memory of it became quite warm and hazy in her mind and did not bear much repeating. Suffice it to say that, when the couple finally stepped from the trees and onto an outcropping of rock that hung gloriously over the rushing torrent of Bruinen's greatest waterfall, Nessúlë felt both intensely quiet and comfortingly peaceful, even as her cheeks flushed with the nearness of her guide. Indeed, she was grown so subdued that she did not hesitate for a moment when her tall companion drew her close to the edge of the cliff and stood brushing shoulders with her in the whipping mist of the falls.

For many minutes Nessúlë did not feel the need to speak. The silence was not even silence at all, for the nature that surrounded them was a riotous symphony in itself. Nessúlë thought that she understood why her companion had brought her there. It was the sort of place where you could lose yourself; everything was grand and wild.

'Just the sort of place,' she thought, 'where I would have chosen to fall in love. How can this Elf know me so well? …Does it even matter?'

Nessúlë decided that it truly did not matter. For at least one night she was ready to lay everything at the feet of destiny.

And what a grand destiny it was. She was poised above the mists, delighting in the roar of the water and the warm hand of an Elf whom she had yet to truly see. Yet she was not afraid or confused or ill at ease. She was exactly where she wanted to be. Like when she was with Elrohir in the honeysuckle.

Nessúlë stiffened a little bit as this idea ran circles through her mind. She blinked; a wave of mist swirled around her as the breeze picked up, then the moment past. Her senses stretched out to gather up ever fragrance and caress of the wind and, with a laugh, she thrust the uneasiness from herself. Her light cloak, now damp, flapped carelessly around her legs and her hood flew back, releasing the dark waves of her hair. Nessúlë laughed again, shaking out her mane and turning to look up at the silent one beside her.

'_He_ is here with me,' she thought, 'how silly to let my thoughts wander.'

She found that the taciturn Elf had been looking at her for some time and she dropped her eyes for a moment, self-consciously. But then she shook her head again and met his eyes strongly. From her current position she could just make out, within the folds of his cloak, the slender curve of his lips smiling at her and the dim glow of starlight in his eyes. His eyes were mesmerizing to her. Whether this was because of their inner light or because of Nessúl's fluttering spirit or because of the mystery of it all none shall ever know. But they _were_ mesmerizing, and so, without thought Nessúlë drew nearer to him, peering all the while up into his eyes.

Had she been paying closer attention to other things, Nessúlë could have, at that moment, caught a glimpse of all his features together, but when the Elf leaned his head toward her the shadows of his hood deepened. When Nessúlë did not shy away from his first movement, the Elf drew nearer still and soon their two shadowed faces were mere inches from each other, the Elf's own voluminous hood brushing against Nessúl's cheeks. A few very still moments past before the _elleth_ could find the will to speak.

"Will you not say anything, my lord?" she finally whispered, her lips twitching upward in a coy smile.

The Elf's own smile widened as he took off one of his gloves and trailed the fingers of his free hand along her cheek before pushing her thick hair back and drawing her face closer to his own. He waited until his lips were already brushing against the corner of her mouth to whisper one word: "Nessúlë."

For the briefest of moments Nessúlë was conscious of the fact that she had heard this voice before. But then her lips were captured by the warm mouth of her enigma and rational thought slipped hopelessly into the background.

The Elf's caress was tentative at first, craving her permission; when she did not draw away it became deeper but still unhurried, his lips plying against her own with restrained desire. Slowly, he let his arm slip inside her cloak and around her waist, drawing her more snuggly against himself. Nessúlë yielded to him, leaning against his chest and sliding one hand up and around his neck, pushing the hood back as she did so. She felt the tension across his shoulders and realized how deliberately gentle he was being with her. His thoughtfulness added extra warmth to the kiss and she responded by letting her fingers massage the muscles at the base of his neck. When the Elf felt her cool fingers against his skin he pulled back from the kiss, resting his cheek against her hair and holding her to him.

Nessúlë smiled giddily as she pressed her face into the Elf's shoulder. Was this what love felt like? She didn't quite know, but was more than willing to find out. She felt a kinship with this Elf, a deep connection. Could it be that she had found her mate?

"Thank you, my lady. You do my great honor."

A soft voice cut through the air and smote Nessúl's heart like the straight steal of a broadsword. Jumping back from the comfortable embrace Nessúlë looked up into a pair of familiar brown eyes. She felt suddenly colder, though whether it was due to the lack of contact or to this startling revelation she could not say.

"Elrohir?" she questioned, almost frantically.

He smiled down at her reassuringly and reached out to steady her, but she was in no state of mind to interpret his gesture correctly. Shaking off his hand she took several steps backward and met his eyes with accusation.

"How could you, Elrohir?" her voice quavered noticeably, "How could you do such a thing? Play such a cruel trick?"

Elrohir's face melted into a look of sincere remorse, "Never, my lady. I would never do such a thing. How could you think it possible?"

Nessúl's back stiffened. "I have heard of your exploits, son of Elrond. You are known for taking your ruses too far. Well it has gone far enough." Her voice was icy.

"It was no ruse!" Elrohir cried passionately. "All this," he let his arm sweep out in an arc, "All this was real. I…" he faltered somewhat, "I didn't know how else to tell you that… I love you."

A choked cry came out of Nessúlë. "How can you be so unkind?" she exclaimed. "How can you continue to make such a sport of me? I know very well that you do not love me. I had thought that we _were_ friends. Perhaps we are not even that any more. Am I but a source of entertainment?" Nessúl's voice was rising in anger and volume. "You lied to me! You have made me look like a fool! Oh Valar, you have made me act like a fool!"

Nessúlë turned and began to storm away through the trees but she was brought to a halt when Elrohir grabbed her arm and swung her around.

"Nay, it is not so," he spoke forcefully, "Please do not say that I have lost you forever because of my ill-conceived plan. I beg your forgiveness. But do not believe that it was done to spite you." Elrohir knelt before her and took her hand. "I never meant to hurt you. I love you. …Ask what you will and I will do it."

Nessúlë felt as though she was about to be ill. She didn't know what to believe. Her sense of reality had been severely battered that night and she couldn't be certain of what she used to think were truths. All she wanted was to be alone. A single tear slid down her cheek and she ruthlessly swiped it away with her free hand.

"Elrohir," she spoke as firmly as she could, which was not very firm. "You had bruised my heart, and I… I don't know if or when it will ever get better. I feel cheated and abused… and stupid. You have taken my good faith and trammeled upon it. You have struck me where I was most vulnerable. Right now, I simply need… I need," her breath caught roughly and she paused for a moment. "I need," she began again, "to not see you right now. I am leaving. Please… don't follow me."

* * *

1. The Awakening – Awakening at Cuiviénen: the birth of the Elves

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "Elf knight"

"""""

Iluvien


	10. Realizations

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 9.) Realizations

"""""

And fare thee weel, my only Luve,

And fare thee weel a while

And I will come again, my luve,

Though it were ten thousand miles

Robert Burns 

"""""

Aug 21, 12 Fourth Age (seven days since the last chapter)

"You are awake early." Oloriel's voice was heavy with sleep as she slowly rolled over and nestled as best she could against her husband's side.

Elladan smiled, turning away from the dim horizon outside and bringing his hand up to stroke Oloriel's unruly hair. The feel of her greatly distended belly pressing against him caused the smile to grow even wider as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on her lips. Oloriel was such a comfort; he sighed into the pillow and let some of his anxiety drift away.

"What is wrong, my husband?" Oloriel questioned as she reached out to gently rub his shoulder with her left hand. She chuckled at Elladan's soft murmur of pleasure and instructed him to roll over onto his stomach. He readily obliged. When she had pushed herself into a somewhat upright position, she leaned over his back and began working her hands over his tense muscles.

"I ask again – what is wrong?"

When Elladan finally responded pillows muffled his voice. "Remember when I told you that I had washed my hands of Elrohir's personal affairs? I lied."

Oloriel's face took on a more somber aspect. "It is an unfortunate business, of course you are worried for him."

Elladan groaned into the pillows. "I cannot help but wish that he had consulted me first. I would have warned him against the scheme."

"I don't know," said Oloriel as she slid her hands under Elladan's light sleeping tunic and pushed it up his back. "I can see why he did it. …Could you take off your tunic, please?"

Sitting up, Elladan pulled the tunic over his head and then lay back down. Oloriel began to massage his back once more.

"You should have heard Nessúlë speak about it," Oloriel continued. "So aflutter. I never thought I should see her like that. If Elrohir had approached her as himself I don't think she would have heard. Her heart needed to be drawn out first."

"Well now it is drawn back in again," Elladan said flatly, "–Could you rub lower?"

Oloriel's hands moved down to Elladan's lower back. His muscles tensed for a moment at the contact of her cool fingers but soon relaxed.

"It is done now, for better or for worse," Oloriel commented philosophically, "I only wish that Nessúlë had told us where she was going."

Elladan mumbled his agreement. The gentle rays of sunrise began to spill through the open balcony doorway and edge across their bedroom floor. For a moment Oloriel thought that her husband had fallen back asleep, but then he spoke.

"Do the men in my family simply have a pension for misunderstandings with women?"

Oloriel quitted her ministrations and lay gratefully back down on the bed. "Hmm? What makes you say that?"

Elladan lifted himself up onto his elbows and regarded his wife. "Have you never heard the tale of my father and mother? _Adar_ fell in love with _naneth_ centuries before he actually asked for her hand in marriage. He thought it was never the right time or that she wouldn't be willing or some such nonsense, when of course she had been hoping he would ask for quite some time."

Oloriel smirked and trailed her hand down Elladan's right arm. Flipping onto his back, Elladan captured her hand and placed a kiss on it before continuing.

"Then there is our story. Not nearly so drawn out, but frustrating enough at the time. I was so bewildered when I thought you didn't want to have anything more to do with me."

"Those were muddled days for me as well," Oloriel agreed.

Elladan placed a light, reassuring kiss beneath Oloriel's ear and then nuzzled his face into her neck. "And now… now Elrohir is nursing his wounds because he tried to use subtlety to win a very straightforward maiden."

"But you forget something," Oloriel replied brightly.

"And what is that, my lady?"

"Both you and your father won the fair maiden despite all the trouble. Why should this be the end of your brother's hope?"

Elladan chuckled. His breath tickled against Oloriel's skin and she playfully shoved him away. Refusing to be shoved, he took Oloriel's arms and pinned them against the pillows.

"And what a wise wife I have won," he murmured, placing a tender and possessive kiss on her lips. "However _did_ I manager it?"

* * *

Elrohir watched dully as a gaggle of females bustled by with bundles of freshly washed linen. An eerie shadow of a smile flitted momentarily across his face as he remembered the day when he found Nessúlë among the billowing waves of drying laundry, scrubbing merrily away at a… was it a blouse? No, it was…

Elrohir shook his head. It didn't matter now. An _elleth_ in the passing company called out to him, no doubt saying something witty or cunning to induce a retort, but Elrohir's mind couldn't wrap around the words and so he responded with a forced, congenial smile and let the ladies pass. However, his stupor was soon interrupted by a voice which could not be so easily ignored.

"If you felt free to act in any manner, would you still be sitting here, sulking on a fine afternoon?"

Celeborn swept his outer robe aside and sat fluidly down onto the bench next to Elrohir. The younger Elf cast a sidelong glance in his direction as if to say "I knew you couldn't remain silent for long".

"Well?" Celeborn prodded after a few moments of complete silence.

"You are counted wisest among the Elves yet remaining in Middle Earth – do you not know what I wish for?"

"Nay, I do not," Celeborn replied bluntly, "The secrets of another's heart remain ever uncharted, especially to those who yearn for wisdom. Mayhap you would wish to throw yourself from the ravine wall were it not for your sense of duty. Perhaps you would wish to turn back the hands of time if you had the power to do so. Of course, there are more temporary impulses. The thought of embracing Nessúlë against her will surely crossed your mind at some point. It is always tempting to believe that, if permitted just one more kiss, the object of our affection would melt and cease resisting."

Elrohir shook his head slowly. "You are wrong on all counts."

Celeborn lifted his hands in a signal of defeat. "What did I tell you?"

An incorrigible smile stole across Elrohir's face despite how diligently he tried to suppress it. Somehow it seemed wrong to smile.

"If I could do anything," Elrohir spoke after some moments of silence, "I would choose to be near her all the time, so that one day, after she had gotten quite used to my presence, she would simply forget to be angry with me any more. Then I would speak with her - make her understand... But it's too late now. She won't let me come near and she won't listen."

"What makes you say that?" Celeborn inquired cryptically.

"I know you have enough wisdom to muddle that out," Elrohir retorted.

"Nay, on this point I am also ignorant. As I have heard it Nessúlë was so startled and upset by your admission that she felt you must have been deceiving her. Is this not so?"

Elrohir nodded morosely and Celeborn continued.

"Certainly you _did_ deceive her when she spoke to you before about her secret admirer, but I do not think that is what angered her most. She has only known you as a friend and was not prepared in mind to have your love revealed in such a dramatic way. The only way she could reconcile the circumstances, then, was to assume that you had made sport of her. But again, I do not think that this is the main offense. Why should she be so angered by your mischief making?"

Celeborn turned to his grandson with an expectant gaze. Elrohir stared back blankly.

"Because," the silver lord spoke firmly, "she was quite ready, whether she admitted it to herself or not, to fall in love with this stranger. She was affected by the words and tokens of love and felt a stirring in her own heart. _Tha_t is why it stung her to have the whole business revealed as a ruse. She didn't arrive that night to scorn, yet she found that she herself was being scorned and was angered by it.

"But did not the words and tokens, though yours, still move her? And does she not know, in the calmer, more rational depths of her mind that you would never play false with her or dishonor any lady in this way?"

Celeborn placed a comforting hand on his grandson's shoulder. "I cannot read the heart, but if my intuition is correct then Nessúlë will soon find her heart and mind clouded with thoughts of you. Now, whether her pride will lead her to return and at least reconcile with you, or whether it will keep her away I cannot tell. But do not lose hope - her anger will be short-lived."

* * *

"Ai!" Nessúlë leapt back and brought her finger to her mouth. Her brows furrowed with determination. Slowly, she reached her hand in once more, weaving carefully through the sharp thorns to retrieve what she had carelessly thrown aside. Bainsúl fluttered onto a nearby branch and started preening his feathers.

"I don't know what you're so cheerful about," Nessúlë muttered sourly, "You don't think I'm going to share my dinner with you after your behavior? I always thought I would be free from interference when it came to my animal friends. You must think quite highly of yourself to be so demanding."

Bainsúl cocked his head and then went back to arranging his plumage. Nessúlë blew a lock of errant hair out of her eyes and drew the desired object from the brambles with a brittle sense of satisfaction.

"There, are you happy now?" Nessúlë called to the hawk. From her hands dangled a small gold pendant in the shape of a sand dollar; one of Elrohir's gifts.

The chain had caught on her hair a minute or two before and in a fit of petty annoyance she had cast it into the thorny brush. Upon doing so the action was secretly regretted, but she had felt a little too proud to scramble after the bauble. After all, why should she care for it any more? However, as she had begun to walk away, Bainsúl made such a racket that she would have gone deaf before two miles of journeying had passed. There didn't seem to be any choice but to retrieve it.

Now that the necklace was safely back in her keeping Nessúlë didn't know what to do with it. Surely she shouldn't put it back on, should she? No, of course not. Nessúlë shook her head violently and straightened, slipping the jewelry into a small leather pouch at her waist. Bainsúl seemed content with this arrangement, as he soon flew off above the trees and out of sight. With a wry grin Nessúlë mounted Hithui and set off in the westward direction.

As she had once intimated in a letter to Elrohir, Nessúlë longed for some inexplicable reason to see the rebuilding of the ancient ruins at Annúminas. Aragorn had commissioned the work to begin earlier that year and there seemed to be much promise in the endeavor. Secretly, Nessúlë hoped to see some resemblance to the architecture of Mithlond, her homeland. But she also looked forward to surveying what remained of the great works of Númenor. And perhaps, as an added pleasure, should would pass with the Rangers' permission through the land of the Hobbits and visit old acquaintances there.

Something in the back of Nessúl's mind whispered that these would all be rather shallow, lonely pleasures, but she was determined to see them through. The Hobbits would not doubt cheer her up, and the solitude and grandeur of the wilderness would give her room to breathe and to think clearly.

"""""

Nessúlë knelt beside a little shady brook and splashed her face with the water. It was cool and clear and inviting, but did not bring any calm to her spirit. When she had desired time to think clearly, she hadn't intended for her thoughts to drift in such a disconcerting direction. Exhausted, she flopped back onto the mossy banks of the stream.

Elrohir. The infuriating Elf seemed to be the only thing her mind could focus on. During the first days of her journeying she had been too angry and saddened to think any distinct thoughts, but lately strange ideas and feelings had been creeping up on her. The most disturbing was this: Could Elrohir have been telling the truth?

Part of her wanted to say yes, but another part was most opposed to this. If yes, then Elrohir truly loved her. She was not quite prepared to deal with this fact. Her emotions were in such a muddle that she couldn't sift through them and she didn't even want to try. On the other hand, if the answer was no, there was an equally disturbing outcome – Elrohir had deliberately and cruelly toyed with her for his own amusement. Reluctantly, Nessúlë had to admit that the first option was at least more palatable. Surely love was a lesser offense than deception.

'Is love an offense?' her mind questioned. Nessúlë bit her lip and started breaking little twigs into pieces. The soft laughter of the nearby brook seemed to be directed at her.

"Oh, why must everything be so complicated?" Nessúlë cried as she tossed the broken sticks into the streams current. A few of them floated away out of sight, but several got caught on the muddy bank. Nessúlë sighed.

Without thought she reached into the pouch at her waist and drew out a packet of folded papers. They were the letters.

'Love letters, I suppose you could call them,' Nessúlë thought, as she leafed through them.

Somehow, despite her better judgement, she hadn't been able to throw them away, any more than she could throw the necklace away or the dagger. At least in the case of the dagger there was some practical motivation. Her hand wandered down to her boot, where the intricate weapon was strapped, and she thought momentarily of the other gifts she had received over the several days of mystery. Those she had left behind.

Slipping the letters back into her pouch Nessúlë moved to get up. However, she paused when she heard the crackling of leaves and brush. Only then did she realize that several creatures were near and that she had been too careless and absorbed in her thoughts to realize it. In agony, she also realized that her sword was laid, with her pack, some several yards away, around a bend in the path. Cautiously and carefully she began to walk in that direction. But it was too late.

From around the bend in the path came three large wolf-like creatures. They did not look large enough to be Wargs, but they carried the same menacing presence. Nessúlë wondered if they were simply young and had not yet fully grown or if they could possibly be a half-breed. But she did not have long to wonder anything. The creatures may not have been full-grown, but they had all the speed and ferocity of an adult.

Nessúlë barely had time to pull the dagger from her boot before two of the beasts were upon her. She struck out at the closest one, slashing across its nose and halting its advance, but the other one caught her full force in the stomach knocking her to the ground. Thankfully, Nessúlë kept the dagger well in hand and had plunged it into the wolf's belly before its claws could do much damage. With unnatural and frenzied strength Nessúlë shoved the carcass off of her and leapt to her feet just as the other wolf, joined now by the third companion, began advancing again.

This time the beast came on more slowly, herding her toward a waist high bolder nearby. Nessúlë was aware of her predicament and sent a fervent prayer to Ilúvatar for protection. There were no large trees within convenient distance and the wolves stood between her and her sword.

'The sword Elrohir gave me.'

The thought flitted through Nessúl's mind and she almost laughed at the irony of it all.

"Yes, the sword Elrohir gave me," she spoke aloud. The wolves paused for a moment in confusion before pressing in further, their cold eyes following the steel of her blade.

"If I had my sword you would both be drawn upon it, know that."

Nessúlë didn't understand why she felt the need to speak. Perhaps it was calming.

One of the wolves made a lunge at her. She slashed her dagger through the air, catching its paw. It fell back a few feet, its hair bristling. Nessúlë knew intuitively that there would be no more dallying. The two wolves started to move toward either side of her. They were ready for the kill.

"But if not his sword, you shall feel his dagger" Nessúlë mocked, her voice hard. "One of you will, I swear it. And if he were here, you would burn beneath his very gaze." Nessúl's voice was becoming rather manic, but she just kept rambling, her muscles taut and ready for the plunge. "When he finds out what has happened to me he'll hunt you down like the dogs you are… He loves me."

It was at that very moment that the wolves lunged. One went straight for her leg and sunk its teeth into her thigh. The other dove for her neck but it was foiled in mid-air as, with a great cry, Nessúlë opened up his own throat with her dagger.

It was at that very moment that Nessúlë finally believed. As the remaining wolf backed away, exulting in its bloody maw and watching triumphantly as she sank to the ground, all Nessúlë could really see was the look in Elrohir's eyes as he told her that it was all real. And she believed him. He loved her. She was loved.

"Oh, Elrohir, I'm so sorry."

The wolf paced in front of her, licking her own blood from its lips. She forced herself not to look at the mangled ruin of her thigh, but instead met the wolf's gaze directly. The dagger still rested in her hand and the wolf knew this. But it was just a matter of time. Her hands were shaking.

For those few moments Nessúlë truly believed that she would die. And all she could think of was that it had all been for nothing.

"I wish," she whispered to the air, "I just wish that I could have said good-bye."

The wolf gathered on its haunches and prepared to pounce. Nessúlë lifted her dagger to point straight out from her body. When the beast came on it ducked its head to the side and swiped the offending weapon out of its way, thrusting its prey to the ground and tearing her left shoulder with its claws. Nessúlë tried to hold the creatures snapping jaws away from her face, but her strength was quickly growing thin.

And then her salvation came.

With a clear shriek Bainsúl, small though brave, descended on the wolf and clawed at its eyes. It was not much, but it was enough to cause the wolf to back away and rub at its face. With as much speed as she could manage, Nessúlë grasped the dagger in her hand and threw it at the wolf while its guard was down. The blade flew true, embedding itself just behind the left foreleg of the beast, into its heart.

All was quiet. Even the babbling stream nearby seemed to have calmed itself. Nessúlë bothered to notice that there were warm tears streaming down her cheeks before she collapsed onto the hard ground.

* * *

Elrohir's head snapped around and he leapt from his seat, upsetting the ornately carved chair and spilling half of the soup in his bowl. Everyone in the feasting hall looked toward him, anxiety and curiosity written across their features. Oloriel, who sat next to Elrohir, laid a calming hand on his arm. He jerked away.

"I have to go – now. Nessúlë, she's… I have to go."

Before another word could be said Elrohir strode from the chamber and began running down the halls to his room. There, under his bed, he kept a pack made ready for emergencies. Retrieving this, along with his bow, quiver, and sword he jumped straight from his balcony railing into the garden below and dashed toward the courtyard where the stables were. Taking his brother's horse, which was more seasoned than his own, he mounted and rode from Imladris, making for the East-West road.

* * *

Annúminas – Original capitol of Arnor, founded by Elendil in the Second Age. 

Thing to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "Elf knight"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

Hithui: "November"

adar: "father"

nanath: "mother"

"""""

Iluvien


	11. I Am Here

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 11.) I Am Here

"""""

Be good to the lad who loves you true,  
And the soul that was born to die for you  
And whistle and I'll be there  
- A. E. Housman__

"""""

Aug 26, 12 Fourth Age

A rather unfeminine grunt came out of Nessúlë as she thumped clumsily back onto the ground. Another attempt made to stand and another failed.

"That will be a new bruise, I imagine," she sourly murmured to herself, wiping her hands against her brown leggings. "This is insufferable – I cannot wait here forever, I must get back!"

Nessúlë shot an accusing glance at the surrounding landscape. It had become all too familiar. Her leg was in such a sorry state that slow crawling was the only option for travel. If there were only some sturdy stick to support her, that would have been something, but she was stranded in the middle of a brush-filled bowl of land a good mile away from the last copse of trees.

If her stallion, Hithui, had been there the situation would not have been dire at all, but this was not the case. Nessúlë had sent Hithui out to graze before her encounter with the wolves and the horse never returned. During that evening and night Nessúlë had heard the far-off sounds of wolves calling to each other and assumed that Hithui had fled. At least, she hoped that was what had happened; the alternative was much more unpleasant.

In her own fear that night Nessúlë hid herself in a small hallow of ground surrounded by briar bushes. This had afforded her several more scratches but was still able to settle her mind somewhat. However, she had still been unable to take any rest for the following two days.

'What shall I do then?' Nessúlë questioned herself. 'Certainly it's better to be out of that hole now, but where can I go from here?'

The _elleth_ looked forlornly down are her right thigh. She hadn't been able to stitch it up herself for her needle had somehow been lost from her healing supplies. Her only tools had been what little knowledge she had of the healing powers, some cleaning salve, and bandages made from her spare clothes. The leg still throbbed and any Healer would say that it shouldn't be walked on at all. But that hadn't stopped Nessúlë from trying.

"It's no use though, is it my friend?" she sighed.

Bainsúl had just returned to his lady and was perched on the knee of her good leg. He cocked his head and ruffled his feathers.

"Perhaps it is time to try our last resort then," Nessúlë murmured.

Initially she had not wanted to send Bainsúl away because he was one of her few defenses. With her useless right leg all she could count on in an emergency was the aim of her daggers and the sharpness of Bainsúl's talons. He had also aided her in another way. It was his ceaseless cries that had awakened her from her restless fainting spell before a loss of blood could impair her functioning.

But now there seemed nothing for it but to send Bainsúl for help. Slowly she took the noble bird onto her hand and raised him so that their eyes met.

"_ Gwilolagor, Bainsúl, atoltha… toltha Elrohir. Tôg hon na enni_ {Fly swiftly, Bainsúl, and fetch… fetch Elrohir. Bring him to me}."

Without pause the bird lifted from her hand and flew away. She watched him go sadly. As she did so a small sliver of doubt pierced her mind. From the vantage point of her newly acquired insight Nessúlë realized that she must have wounded Elrohir terribly by running off. Was it wrong to ask more of him? She shook her head restlessly. Elrohir would not think so, certainly. It couldn't be too late – not now, after she had finally discovered the truth.

* * *

For only the second time in his life, that he could recall, Elrohir felt truly nauseous. The sensation did not sit well with him. He did not like feeling so powerless or so scared. It reminded him too much of the other time. Only then, when they were scouring the Orcish haunts of the Hithaeglir for signs of his mother, there had at least been a trail of fetid air and trampled ground to follow"". Here there was nothing. Nessúlë was a skilled member of the Lorien patrol: she did not leave behind needless signs of her passing.

Since he began his journey, Elrohir had felt as though something was leading him onward, calling him in the right direction. But so far his search was fruitless. And only the Valar knew how much time was left. After receiving his premonition in the dining hall five days before Elrohir had not been given any more hints as to Nessúl's well being. For all he knew, she could well be dead.

Elrohir pushed his horse onward, not willing to dally for one moment. He stretched his senses out to their limit, using them where his eyes failed to aid him. The clouds boiled above him, massing in dark brooding clusters; the wind picked up and swept over the brown lands. Elrohir rode on, paying no heed to the approaching ill weather.

Hours of fruitless searching had passed and twilight had begun to tinge the sky when Elrohir suddenly reined in his steed. He could smell blood. His own blood ran cold. Anxiously leaping from his horse, Elrohir darted into the grove of small trees, brushing aside the undergrowth with his hasty strides. In a few moments he came upon an unsettling sight.

Lying up against a line of closely-knit trees lay the carcass of a dead horse, torn as if by claws. Elrohir turned sharply away from the sight, but not so soon that he didn't recognize the horse as Nessúl's stallion, Hithui. A bitter taste rose up in Elrohir's mouth and he began to despair.

"No, it's not the end," Elrohir declared firmly, leaning heavily against one of the nearby trees. "None of her things are here, she it not here, it is not the end."

Pushing off of the tree Elrohir turned and approached the horse slowly. He knelt by the sightless eyes and said a few soft words over him then he rose and apologized. "You will not rest in the earth, faithful one – I go to rescue your mistress if I can and so here you will lie."

Calling his horse to him, Elrohir mounted and rode out of the wood, trying to follow what trail the horse had left, thinking that, perhaps, it would lead him back to Nessúlë.

Some time had passed when Elrohir came to a place where the ground became rocky and bare. He scrutinized the stone for scuff marks, but the signs seemed contradictory and the light had failed altogether, it being now the dead of night and only a day past the new moon. Reluctantly he began to resign himself to having lost the trail, at least until the morning. This was a sad blow, and the sudden drizzle that began to sweep across the land did not improve his mood.

With sudden ferocity Elrohir kicked at a pile of chalky rocks, sending them scattering across the slanted ground. He tumbled to his knees and stuck the cold, unforgiving rock with his hand.

You're too late, his heart whispered, _Five days have past, you're too late. Either she is gone beyond your aid or she has escaped the danger and continued on her journey… away from you. Either way, you have lost her. You're too late._ '

The rain began to fall more earnestly. Elrohir closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the water spill over his face. For several minutes the monotonous drumming of the rain filled his ears and he had almost drifted off into an exhausted trance-like stupor when a new sound pierced his mind.

A cry, loud and clear reached his ear and he looked up, just as Bainsúl, flying quite low above the land veered in his course and dove toward him. Elrohir cried out for joy. Here was a messenger that could give him more than a dead trail and who would doubtless wait on his mistress until the end. The young bird was an impatient one, but he was sturdy and true.

Bainsúl descended on Elrohir's arm but he did not perch there. Instead, he grasped Elrohir's tunic sleeve and pulled away, as if trying to tug him in the right direction. It did not take long for Elrohir to apprehend that the bird wanted him to follow, and as may be imagined, he was more than willing to oblige.

* * *

Aug 27, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë pulled the cloak more tightly about her, rocking back and forth in an attempt to stay warm, but it was a useless gesture. She had scooted herself beneath a small overhang the night before which had provided precious little shelter. The fire had given up early in the night and her clothes were wet through. Murky sunlight was beginning to bleed across the horizon, but it did not warm Nessúl's heart. Her thigh felt like it was burning

A shiver ran along Nessúl's spine and she lay down on her side, ignoring the jagged feel of the hard ground and pulling her good leg up to her chest. She couldn't help whimpering a little as the wind shifted, sending a new shower of rain into her pitiful sanctuary. Slowly she turned her body, facing more toward the inside of the cove.

Having nothing else to do, and knowing that she would not find sleep, Nessúlë reached into her bag to retrieve the letters. They had been her one source of comfort over the past five-and-a-half terrible days. She couldn't have put her jumble of feelings into thoughts or words, but she did know that reading Elrohir's words made her smile. That was miraculous in itself.

A frown crossed Nessúl's face. She moved her hand about in the bag but couldn't feel the small leather pouch. Needing to use the strap to bind up one of her dressings, Nessúlë had taken the satchel from her waist and put it in the top of her saddlebag. But it wasn't there.

Weary, faint, and cold, but anxious all the same, Nessúlë dumped the bag up side down in a frenzy, emptying it of its few contents and scattering them around. The satchel was nowhere to be found.

"It must have fallen out when I dragged the sack behind me," Nessúlë moaned, her eyes wide.

She turned back toward the outer landscape, wincing as her thigh shifted. The rain had been coming down steadily for hours and she knew that the small pouch had not been closed when she put it away.

Without taking time to rationally assess the situation, Nessúlë began to crawl out of her hiding place, using her hands and good leg to slide across the muddy ground to where she had been resting before. After a few minutes of hurried, tense searching Nessúlë found the pouch half buried in mud. Using her body as a shield from the rain, Nessúlë opened the pouch and withdrew the papers. A soft, irrepressible sob escaped her throat when she saw what havoc the water had made. The paper was plastered together and the rich Elven ink had bled into a swirl of unrecognizable blotches.

Unwilling to give them up, Nessúlë pulled away a few leaves with agitated fingers. It was no use. Every word was gone.

Overwhelmed with regret, anger, and exhaustion, Nessúlë slumped down into the mud and cried. It seemed an omen. Elrohir's words had been washed away in a torrent of rain, never more to be seen. What if her leg became infected and started bleeding again before Elrohir ever arrived? What if Bainsúl was too young to remember the way? …What if she never saw his face again and faded without even the comfort of his written words?

"Terrible." Nessúlë scrunched up the sopping papers and held them against her chest. A few moments later her feverish thoughts slipped away into unconsciousness.

* * *

The rain had died down to a soft drizzle and the sun was beginning to chase away the clouds when Elrohir reined in his horse beside a boulder upon which Bainsúl was perched. Leaping down, Elrohir paused for a moment and then scrambled up onto the boulder, almost dislodging Bainsúl in his haste. Scanning the area around him, Elrohir soon saw the crumpled form of Nessúlë a few feet away, amidst a tussle of brush. Slipping off the rock, Elrohir raced to her side and knelt down near her head.

Immediately he apprehended that she was still alive and breathing. But this did not extinguish his worry; her breathing was quick, her body shivered slightly, and her leg was obviously in a bad way, not to mention all the other cuts and bruises that were spread over her body. With gentle hands he turned her so that she was lying on her back. As he smoothed locks of tangled hair from her face he noticed that she was holding something.

Elrohir opened her hands up slowly and withdrew the wad of paper. Dark burgundy ink was washed across the pages, very like the ink that he had made for himself. Were these his letters? A glimmering wisp of hope invaded Elrohir's mind before he pushed it savagely away. This was not the time for such thoughts. Nessúlë had to be taken care of.

Without delay Elrohir scooped the _elleth_ up into his arms and started carrying her away. With the aid of his horse, he had soon brought her to a place of shelter which had, in times past, been used by the northern Rangers.

As he took Nessúlë down from the horse's back she stirred. Opening her eyes blearily, she gazed upon him with a mixture of awe and confusion.

"Elrohir?" her voice was low and distant.

"Sshh… be still, my love, I am here."

* * *

Nessúlë was sure she had been dreaming, but when she woke again some time later she could still feel a pair of warm arms around her.

'I am loosing my mind,' she mused wearily. And for some reason this thought amused her. She snorted softly with laughter and then began to cough.

"Easy," a gentle voice whispered near her ear. "Drink this."

Without bothering to open her eyes Nessúlë obeyed the instructions.

"I have tended to your leg and to your shoulder," the voice continued, "do they still hurt?"

Nessúlë let her head fall back onto whoever it was behind her. "A little."

Not feeling up to any exertions of mind, Nessúlë was quite ready to succumb to sleep when she felt something with her hand. Or rather, she did not feel something.

Her eyes flew open and her hands began exploring her tunic and the ground around her. "Where are the letters?" she inquired frantically but almost to herself. "Oh, I've gone and lost them again… they're all gone. No…"

To her bewildered mind this point seemed to be of grave importance and her breathing began to grow heavy as she thought on it. Elrohir tenderly drew her back against his chest and pulled his cloak about them both.

"All is well, do not fret about the letters. I will write you new ones, if you like. But for now you must stay warm."

Nessúl's breathing slowly normalized and her head fell back against Elrohir's chest.

"Elrohir? It is you?"

"Yes, I am here."

And then Nessúlë did something very unexpected. With painstaking care, she twisted her body around in Elrohir's arms so that she was turned more toward him, then she slid her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest.

"I'm sorry," she murmured quietly, "And… thank you."

In a few moments she was asleep. And, with the seeds of contentment and peace beginning to spring up in his heart, Elrohir laid his cheek against Nessúl's hair and soon followed her example.

* * *

1. Elrohir participated in the hunt for his capture mother, Celebrian, in the Misty Mountains.

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "Elf knight"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

Hithui: "November"

elleth: "Elf (female)"

Hithaeglir: "Misty Mountains"

gwilo-lagor, Bainsúl, a-toltha… toltha Elrohir = "fly-swift, Fairwind, and-fetch… fetch Elrohir"

tôg hon na enni = "bring him to me" --- enni = "I/me (indirect object)"

"""""

Iluvien


	12. Slow Fall

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

* * *

Chapter 12.) Slow Fall

The face of all the world is changed, I think,

Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul

Elizabeth Barrett Browning 

Aug 27, 12 Fourth Age

The first thought that registered in Nessúl's mind when she awoke was that she was dry and warm. For a few moments this thought was enough. She smiled contentedly and snuggled into whatever she was lying against. A soft murmur sounded from somewhere near her head and suddenly the _elleth_ was aware of the arms that were still wrapped around her. Significantly more awake, Nessúlë lifted her head up slowly and took in her current position.

Elrohir, still asleep, was sitting on a pile of blankets and leaning up against the wall of a crudely built wooden structure. His cloak fell around them both. Nessúlë assumed that she had been lying with her face against his chest since she fell asleep. Judging by the light outside it was late afternoon and they had been lying there for several hours.

Nessúl's mouth felt dry and sticky, even more so when she caught the sound of flowing water nearby. However, she didn't want to risk disturbing Elrohir's slumber. He looked so calm and unguarded that it seemed cruel to wake him. And cruel was one thing that she never wanted to be.

A slight frown creased Nessúl's forehead as she continued to trace Elrohir's features with her eyes. Certainly she hadn't been deliberately cruel. Indeed, she had been convinced for a time that Elrohir was guilty of cruelty. But that was something of an injustice in itself. She should have known better – should have known that he cared for her too much to be so devious.

Nessúlë blew a lock of hair from before her eyes. 'To say that he 'cares' might be an understatement,' she thought wryly. 'How did I miss it?'

Her sober thoughts were interrupted when Elrohir shifted his head and wrinkled his nose as though something was tickling him in sleep. Nessúlë smiled at him and bit her lip to keep from laughing. She wasn't entirely successful.

Since there was nowhere else to put it, Nessúlë lay her head back down on Elrohir's chest and drew in a deep, slow breath. What was she going to do? After several minutes of scouring her mind Nessúlë rallied her thoughts and, in an attempt to get everything out into the free air, began whispering off all of the various pieces of information that she knew to be true.

"One: Elrohir loves me. Yes, that's a very important fact. Two: Elrohir is a good Elf. Three: whether I was acting childishly or not, it is true that I was more than willing to receive the suite of my admirer _before_ I knew he was Elrohir. Four: Now that I know he was – is – Elrohir I am horribly confused." Nessúlë sighed. "And five: I _do_ care very much about Elrohir, but six… my mouth is horribly parched and I should probably stop whispering to myself."

Nessúlë huffed another few hairs out of her face and started restlessly tracing the design on Elrohir's cloak with her fingers. She almost jumped out of her skin when a warm, callused hand folded over her fingers and gently stilled their nervous wanderings.

"Sorry," Elrohir whispered solemnly.

Nessúl's head flew up and her breath caught for a moment. She blinked several times and then released the air in her lungs while her thoughts flew frantically: 'When did he wake up? Did he hear everything? Would it be bad if he heard everything? In what terrible ways could he interpret everything I just? What should I say now?'

In the end all she could come up with was "Why are you sorry?"

Nessúlë was sure that she didn't look brilliant at the moment, but she wasn't brilliant, so why pretend? If she ever wanted answers she would simply have to ask questions.

Elrohir let a small smile grace his lips. "For startling you, milady. And for confusing you. And for sleeping so long and leaving you unattended. I shall remedy the latter as soon as I may – I believe you are thirsty, yes?"

Nessúlë nodded numbly and before she could gather her senses to do anything else Elrohir had somehow maneuvered from between herself and the wall, let her gently down onto the blankets, and left the rickety building to go fetch her a drink of water.

A pitiful groan escaped Nessúlë as she turned her face into the blankets. Life was so complicated.

'It wasn't always this way,' a little voice whispered inside her head.

But when did things go wrong? When did one go from being a carefree Elfling who cried over bee-stings, but laughed over seashells, to being a lady? A lady older than men dared to dream, whose memories were full of death and life and war and celebration, and who was accosted from all directions with strange, fathomless, and powerful emotions which, despite her experience, she did not know how to bring to resolution.

Nessúlë laughed into the blankets. 'And I always thought I was so capable,' she thought. 'Oh well, I suppose I should relish these little bumps in life. They'll grow fewer and fewer as I swagger on into eternity.'

When Elrohir came back from the brook he found Nessúlë scooted up against the wall with a crooked smile planted on her face.

"You shouldn't have moved," he chided softly.

Nessúlë shrugged. "It's not so very bad."

Elrohir wordlessly handed her a large sycamore leaf filled with water. Nessúlë lapped the water up eagerly and then watched as Elrohir unwrapped the bandage on her thigh. She winced at the sight.

"Perhaps it is so very bad."

As he pulled a length of cloth from his sack Elrohir looked up at her and cocked his eyebrow. Nessúlë smirked and rolled her eyes.

"I was never the best patient, I suppose," she murmured.

Both Elves paused and then looked at each other. Nessúlë started chuckling first and then Elrohir followed.

"You were so angry with me then," Elrohir shook his head in wonder, "I thought I was in for sore revenge. But you never took it."

Nessúlë bowed her head slightly. "Yes, well, enough damage had been done already, I suppose, for me to add to the grievances. …But don't worry, I won't bite your head off this time. Your aid is most appreciated."

Both Elves fell silent. Each felt the unreality of the moment. At the same time there was so much distance of confusion between them and yet so little. They were dancing awkwardly around a new sort of relationship while walking rather comfortably in the old. Elrohir finished re-dressing her leg and turned to face her directly.

"How did you come so quickly?" Nessúlë finally took the first plunge.

Elrohir's brow rose and he quirked his lips slightly. "That is an interesting tale," he began. "I was sitting in the feast hall six days ago when I felt… I simply felt that you were in danger and that I had to go. So I went. I rode along the East-West road with some tantalizing hope of finding you. But all I found were dead ends."

Elrohir's mind drifted toward the image of Hithui's torn carcass in the wood, wondering whether or not he should tell Nessúlë.

"What is it?" Nessúlë questioned. "Why this shadow? I am not greatly harmed, you have found me."

An irrepressible smile dawned on Elrohir's face despite his melancholy. Nessúlë was somewhat taken aback by it.

"Yes," Elrohir replied, "And praise be to all the good powers that Bainsúl crossed paths with me. I was sick with worry."

Nessúlë felt the urge to turn away form Elrohir's intense gaze. What she saw in his eyes was so foreign, so different from what she had always thought to find there.

"You love me," she stated softly.

Elrohir took her hand and caressed her fingers. Nessúlë let him.

"Yes."

Elrohir was staring at her hand in his, but she didn't need to see his eyes to hear the joy in his voice. How could he be uplifted when she had already treated him so roughly? Did he have some hope of her returning his affections? Was that hope justified?

Nessúlë twined her fingers with Elrohir's and silently drew his eyes to hers.

"I don't know what my heart is ready to give you, Elrohir; I am so amazed and disoriented. But I want you to know that I regret leaving Imladris. Things have been changing between us since I arrived – I can see that now. I don't know where they will lead, but… I'm willing to find out… and… and…" Nessúlë couldn't help smiling a little at the jubilant fire in Elrohir's eyes, "…and that is the end of my eloquence."

Without further ado Elrohir leaned in and kissed Nessúl's cheek. "Enough said, love," he whispered into her ear, "And more than enough."

Nessúlë felt a tinge of color rise up her face. She spoke with a mixture of anxiety and amusement in her voice: "You grow rather bold after such an uncertain declaration."

Elrohir smirked. "Nessúlë, that was as good as an invitation for me to woo you. And woo you I shall."

* * *

Aug 31, 12 Fourth Age

Elrohir did not do anything by halves. As much as he had studiously hid his affection from Nessúlë before, he now showered it on her without shame. Nessúlë found it a little overwhelming at times. But Elrohir was understanding and, at the slightest hesitation on her part, would slip blithely into the role of friend and comrade, not by changing his manner but by allowing her a little distance or changing the subject or making her laugh. The laughter was the best.

Somewhere along the way, during the second day of their ride back toward Imladris, old friendly scores had been dug up and little tricks had been played back and forth until the evening, when Nessúlë had put a few prickly sprigs of gorse on Elrohir's empty seat. When the Elf had sat down he merely winced and then shook his head solemnly at Nessúlë who innocently examined the crackling fire before her. When she woke the next morning her toes discovered gorse in her boots.

Nessúlë chuckled, remembering how she had hopped about on her good leg in an exaggerated manner until she had fallen, albeit slowly and carefully, with a dramatic flare at Elrohir's feet. Of course, he had then proceeded, by way of helping her to her feet, to swing her up into his arms, spin her around, and pin her with another one of those eloquent looks. But Nessúlë was by that time becoming more accustomed to such behavior.

"What are you snickering about?" Elrohir inquired over her shoulder. He sat behind her on his horse, having informed Nessúlë when they set out four days before of her own steed's fate.

Smirking, Nessúlë did not reply. Instead she called out to the horse, who was slowly being won over to her side, and urged him to go faster. Without hesitation the stallion sprang forward, eagerly ready to romp across miles of wilderness without faltering. Nessúlë laughed outright as the wind washed over her face and hands, and her joy was multiplied as she heard Elrohir's laugh mingle with hers on the wind and vibrate against her back where she leaned against him.

They did not stop to rest until shortly before noon when they came to the bridge over the Hoarwell"". Letting the horse out to graze, Elrohir and Nessúlë both sat on the edge of the bridge, Elrohir with both his feet dangling and Nessúlë with her back propped up against his shoulder, her injured leg on the bridge, and her other leg hanging over the water.

Nessúlë, who put great stock in being direct, took a bite of her dried fruit and turned her head as far as she might toward Elrohir.

"I think we may have to draw up some new rules for our horseplay, Elrohir. The field is no longer even."

Elrohir set down his water skin and turned his head to meet her sidelong glance. "How so?"

"Well, if you're sure you love me–"

"Which I am," Elrohir put in.

"Yes, which you are," Nessúlë took another philosophical bight of dried apple, staring off into the distance. "Doesn't that mean that you couldn't bring yourself to do so many underhanded things? If I were to do something horribly devilish, you would be left without a satisfactory means of recourse. I hold you at a disadvantage."

Elrohir chuckled. "That merely gives me more incentive – the sooner I win your heart the sooner I shall be safe."

Nessúlë fumbled desperately with her water skin and then watched morosely as it plopped into the tumbling water of the Hoarwell.

"Hmm, yes. But that… aspiration… doesn't address the problem of the here and now, does it," she finally replied.

"Don't worry, love" Elrohir murmured, "I won't be defenseless. Do you remember that time, eleven years ago, when we crossed paths in Lórien?"

The _elleth's_ eyes widened. "You mean, you loved me then and you did _that_!" Nessúlë huffed before the thought truly sank in. "Wait. You were in love with me eleven years ago?"

Elrohir smiled but Nessúlë did not see it, her back still being turned to him. "And for a time before that."

"I don't believe it."

"What don't you believe?" Elrohir asked a little defensively.

"I don't believe that you would do such a thing if you had loved me back then. Aren't lovesick Elves supposed to write sonnets or dream dreams or something of the sort."

Elrohir shrugged. "I tried that as well."

Nessúlë slouched against Elrohir's shoulder, deflated. "All that time…"

"Not very long for an Elf," Elrohir qualified.

Nessúlë turned so that she could face Elrohir with her back to the water. "Nay, a very long time for an Elf, if his love remains secret and unrequited. You should have said something."

"What should I have said?"

A sad smile crept across Nessúl's face. "You're right… how odd that would have been. It was not the time."

"Is now the time, then?" Elrohir questioned, lifting his hand up to touch her cheek.

Nessúlë unconsciously tilted her head into his caress. "I have already told you all I know, old friend."

"Now you are the one lying." Elrohir cupped her face with both his hands. "Even now you are changing – you cannot be unaware of it."

A slight tremor skimmed up Nessúl's spine as Elrohir buried his hands in her hair and gently drew her closer. She could have pulled away, but something inside her was arguing that she didn't really want to after all.

"Do not be afraid to change, lovely one," Elrohir whispered. "As long as it is what your heart desires and what your judgement cannot censure then there is nothing to fear. I used to think that you could not change for me, that you were perfect as you were. But I was wrong. Everything changes and can become more beautiful as it grows."

Elrohir drew his left hand from her hair and tilted her chin up, smiling reassuringly. "And so I will wait for you."

As Nessúlë held his gaze Elrohir leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead and temple. He then stood and gathered her up in his arms. Calling his horse over, he lifted Nessúlë gently onto its back and mounted after. For some time the two rode in silence as Nessúlë absorbed his words.

* * *

Sept 2, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúlë was annoyed at herself for being annoyed. Ever since she and Elrohir had met up with a group of three border guards, who had been some of the group come out to search for them, she had been irked by their presence. They were not rowdy by any human standards, but they would converse and sing and crowd about so that Nessúlë wished she were back in the wilderness… perhaps with Elrohir along for company. Elrohir always knew when to speak and when to be silent. Or perhaps it was that when Elrohir wanted to speak, Nessúlë simply wanted to listen to him. But it might also be that these Elves were just not as pleasant as Elrohir, or not as interesting. She didn't know and found it horribly uncomfortable not knowing.

Thankfully, the journey was almost over. They had stopped several minutes before to allow for Nessúl's loosening bandage to be replaced, but when they mounted back up it would be only a few hours before Nessúlë would be able to hide in her room and calm herself. She would no longer have to be annoyed at the other Elves for breaking the peacefulness between her and Elrohir; annoyed at Elrohir for making her dissatisfied with everyone else; and annoyed with herself for letting Elrohir so easily ruffle and bewitch her.

And bewitched is what she was. Even she was not so stubborn as to deny it. And who would not be? She had been fond of Elrohir since the day she met him, but she had never been so long with him as to grow sisterly in her affection toward him. Indeed, she had once told Elrohir to his face that she did not need another brother worrying over her.

From the beginning Elrohir's declaration of love had been more unexpected and uncomfortable than distasteful, and he had thus far been so gentle, playful, natural, and even romantic in his pursuit of her that the idea was becoming less and less uncomfortable by the minute. The only thing that distressed Nessúlë was the principle of it. Should she be so easily won, in a matter of days? Could such a hasty courtship be honestly crowned in love?

'You weren't so practical before you knew it was Elrohir,' an impertinent little voice whispered in the back of her mind.

Nessúlë tried her best to ignore it.

'And just think about your behavior since you arrived here,' the voice continued. 'Weren't you rather hoping it would turn out to be Elrohir all along?'

"Oh shush," Nessúlë retorted.

"Pardon?"

Elrohir sat down next to her on the log, his thigh brushing against hers. Nessúlë sighed morosely and gave him an ambiguous stare. It was so hard to think clearly when he was near. Elrohir frowned, concern in his eyes, and then tentatively got up, apparently devising that she wanted some time alone. Nessúl's heart sank a little as he walked to the nearby stream to fill his water skin. She hadn't exactly wanted him to leave.

'You are a paradox,' she grumbled at herself.

She sat quietly a few moments until she couldn't keep herself from doing it: "Elrohir."

The Elf turned from where he stood by the horse and lifted his eyebrows in question. The knot in Nessúl's stomach relaxed and she smiled apologetically. A few moments later Elrohir led the horse over and lifted her up onto its back. Nessúlë didn't argue when he settled himself behind her and wrapped both his arms snugly around her waist. He didn't let go of her until they arrived in Imladris, and even then he did so only long enough to dismount.

Nessúlë was not quite sure how he accomplished the feat, but within moments of their arriving in the courtyard Elrohir had lifted her from the horse, slipped daringly through the company of curious and inquiring citizens, traversed a hallway wet with mop water, and brought Nessúlë safely to the entrance of her room. The _elleth_ smiled dreamily at the sight of her warm, soft bed. Unfortunately for her, she would have to wait to get there, as Elladan appeared from a tapestried doorway further down the hallway and came toward them.

"I heard your return from the balcony." Elladan walked up to the pair, smiling. "My lady, I am glad to see that you are safe. Oloriel would greet you as well, but she is sleeping."

Nessúlë was grateful that he did not touch upon her hasty departure. "Thank you, Elladan."

She did not feel up to any more conversation, and neither it seems did anyone else. After a few earnest words passed between the two brothers, Elladan returned to his wife's side. When he left Elrohir stepped into Nessúl's room and carried her over to the bed.

"When will you stop hoisting me everywhere?" Nessúlë teased.

"Until you grow too stubborn to let me, I imagine," Elrohir quipped lightly. "I should call one of the healers to tend to your leg, by the way," he continued, before pausing as he saw a look of discontent pass across Nessúl's face. Smiling knowingly he leaned down over her and placed a kiss on her forehead. "But not for a while yet. You should rest. Shall I leave you now."

There was a vague look of hope in his eyes which Nessúlë found little defense against.

"You don't have to go."

Elrohir smiled softly, sitting down cross-legged on the end of her bed, with his back to one of the bedposts. A contented sigh escaped him as he watched Nessúlë.

Trying to ignore his obvious infatuation, Nessúlë shifted to her side and started tracing the pattern of the quilt beneath her. When he continued to watch her she chuckled and threw a small pillow at him.

"You're pitiful," she laughed.

Elrohir shrugged. "And you're beautiful."

There didn't seem to be any way to respond to that, so Nessúlë didn't try. Elrohir scooted up the bed and lay down next to her. Somehow their hands met between them and twined in each other's. A few moments past before Elrohir spoke again.

"We've had ourselves quite an adventure, have we not?"

Nessúlë smiled sleepily. "Yes. I am quite done with them for a while."

A breeze blew through the open window as Nessúl's eyes drifted closed. She was about to pass into sleep when a knock sounded on the frame of her doorway

"I know I shouldn't disturb you," Oloriel said, walking as best she could toward the bed, "but you'll have to make allowances for the pregnant lady. Have you called the healer, Elrohir?"

Elrohir rose from the bed to lend his arm to his sister-in-law when Oloriel froze and gasped out loud, laying a startled hand on her abdomen.

"Are you alright?" Elrohir inquired hastily as he caught Oloriel's elbow in his hand.

Oloriel's eyes were wide and her breathing was labored. "Elrohir, I think the baby is coming."

Hoarwell – River west of Imladris and Trollshaw. 

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "Elf knight"

Bainsúl: "fair wind"

elleth: "Elf (female)"


	13. Bend in the Wind

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

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**A/N:** I want to reply to some people who don't have their e-mail addresses available on So, here goes:

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**synergybymoonlight**: Welcome, and yes, you're totally right. It was a slip-up of the typing fingers. Poor Microsoft word just can't keep up with all my quirks.

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**Lady Eleclya**: Thank you, thank you. And talk about reading minds – you always seem to highlight the lines I'm most fond of. Keep it up! = )

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**Concetta**: Thank you for all your lovely and supportive reviews. You're always so enthusiastic and I just wanted to say thank you. And, concerning your most recent review: I really liked that line myself. = P

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**Tarvalie**: Your continuing support is appreciated… wow, didn't that sound like a public television pledge drive…. ;)

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**the essence of popsicles**: Firstly, thank you for your review and for your compliment on my "little tangs of humor". Secondly, on Elrohir's name. This is why I did what I did:

'el' can be either the abbreviation of 'elen'= "star" or 'eldar'= "Elf"

'roh'= "horse"

'hir'= "lord" --- this is the only way I've ever seen it translated

While the explicit meaning appears to be "Elf horse lord" or "star horse lord", I read in the Encyclopedia of Arda, which I've always found to be a credible source, that Tolkien had intended the "poetic" meaning, if you will, to be "Elf knight". The 'el' could go either way, and a knight is in very simple terms a "horse lord". If the Silmarillion says something else than it may be that this is one of the examples of Tolkien shaping his world as he went along, or it may be that EofA made an error. If I'm wrong I'm wrong… and this certainly isn't the first or last time I will be

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**Celtic Fairy, auroradm, loveroflegolas**: Welcome, and thank you for the reviews.

* * *

Chapter 13.) Bend in the Wind  
"""""  
birds sing sweeter than books tell how.  
- e.e. cummings  
"""""

Sept 3, 12 Fourth Age

Elrohir closed the door reluctantly behind him as he stepped out into the hallway. Celeborn, who had gone before him turned back with an unreserved grin. Elrohir met it with one of his own as he returned his grandfather's embrace affectionately.

"_Great_grandfather?" Elrohir whispered in Celeborn's ear.

The silver Elf stepped back and chuckled. "I think it will suite me well."

"Shall you stay?" Elrohir nodded toward the closed door.

"Nay, they need their time alone for now, and I do not think that Elladan will be inclined to give the little one up before the morning."

Elrohir smiled. In his mind he could still see his brother sitting by the window with his new son, Arannon, cuddled against his chest. The picture suited him.

"It is almost dawn," Celeborn commented quietly, "I believe I shall retire."

Elrohir nodded and watched for a few moments as his grandfather strolled down the candlelit hallway. The group of anxious Elves that had inhabited the hall since the evening before had dispersed an hour earlier, leaving those closest to enjoy the company of the newborn babe.

Turning toward his bedchamber Elrohir noticed for the first time that Nessúlë was sitting quietly on the floor, a few yards away from the birthing room. When the other well-wishers had left Nessúlë had slipped out with them before Elrohir could bid her to stay. He had assumed that she went back to her bed. From the looks of her it was where she belonged: her eyes were glassy with weariness and her skin was pale. But she still looked up and smiled brightly when he came over to slide down next to her on the floor.

"He's so beautiful," she whispered.

"Mmm," Elrohir agreed, folding her hand in one of his own and letting his head lean back against the wall.

He hadn't realized how tired he was. His eyes drifted closed. Several silent moments passed as his breathing became deeper and slower.

This quiet reverie was rudely interrupted by a sharp poke in the side. Elrohir grunted and opened one eye.

"What was that for?"

A lopsided grin spread across Nessúl's face. "I can't very well carry you back to your bed. And you don't want to fall asleep on this floor - you'll never unbend in the morning."

Elrohir snorted lightly with amusement. "Well put. Alright then, up I go."

Nessúl's grin evened out into a soft smile as she watched Elrohir push himself up from the ground. She was about to follow when Elrohir bent down and hoisted her up in his arms.

"What are you doing?" Nessúlë furrowed her brows and squirmed petulantly in his arms but her slight, tired chuckle ruined the impression that she was upset. "I was able to walk from the room, Elrohir, certainly I can make it down the hallway."

"But you shouldn't," Elrohir replied, as he pushed open the door to her room with his foot.

Nessúlë rolled here eyes. "Very well."

"Besides," Elrohir continued, as he held her over the tantalizingly comfortable bed, "It provides me with a very legitimate excuse to hold you."

And so saying he plopped her playfully down onto the already unmade bed. A slight blush crept up Nessúl's cheeks as Elrohir pulled the blankets up around her and she burrowed into their warm depths.

Elrohir smiled fondly as he watched Nessúlë situate herself. "May your dreams be sweet, love," he whispered as he turned to leave.

"And yours also."

The words were faint through the covers, but Elrohir heard them and took them with him from the room.

* * *

Nessúlë awoke the next morning to the soothing fragrance of steaming lavender. Pushing her head up through the covers she looked over toward the door to her bathing chamber. Curling wisps of vapor were creeping out from behind the half-opened door.

The prospect of a bath was almost enough to get Nessúlë out of bed, but not quite. Just a few more minutes were needed. After days of not sleeping, an injury, and a night of expectant waiting for Oloriel's child to be born, Nessúlë felt that she was justified in taking her time.

Rolling over stiffly Nessúlë let her eyes wander from the open windows, down along the floor, and up to the arresting splash of red that was hovering in her sleep-filled vision.

"Roses?" she murmured groggily, lifting her head up and blinking her eyes. Apprehending that, yes, they were indeed roses, she let her head fall back down. Elrohir had been there.

Several minutes later Nessúlë stretched lazily out along the bed and then began pushing the covers off of her. She assumed that Elrohir had been responsible for having the bath drawn as well as for the bouquet of radiant blossoms. Her eyes traveled once more to the flowers on the bedside table as she rubbed the back of her neck and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. But her feet never reached the floor as she paused in her movements to study the object nestled beneath the roses. It was a thick packet of some sort, sealed closed with wax.

Nessúlë picked it up and turned it over. She almost laughed out loud when she saw what was written upon the front. It was her name, spelled with Mannish letters in a rich burgundy ink.

'Surely he didn't!' she thought, amazed.

But he had. Within the outer parchment there were several other smaller letters, sealed with the same wax, and signed to her. Along with the letters came this note:

__

_Na i'gwen o i'ëar_ {To the Maiden of the Sea},

Though it grieved me much to see your distress at having lost them, it was also a sign of hope to me that you cherished my letters so dearly. Even now this thought makes me smile. But I do not want to keep this joy all to myself. I once offered to restore the letters to you by writing them again and I can only hope that by doing so now I will bring a smile to your face.

So here I am, with so many thoughts and hopes for the future filling my mind that sleep is beyond me, attempting to remember faithfully what I once wrote. I pray these letters will find you well in the morning.

Elrohir

At the very bottom of the note, scrawled with black ink as though in afterthought there was a postscript:

In keeping with tradition, you will find something on the floor beside your bed.

Nessúlë did not care about the new gift at that moment. Instead, she looked through the letters, smiling over little phrases that had changed or had stayed wonderfully the same. But soon curiosity overtook her.

Setting the letters aside, Nessúlë leaned over the edge of the bed and looked for the new gift. She picked it up gently and brought it to lie across her lap, laughing as she did so. In her hands Nessúlë held a simple, elegant walking cane.

"Does this mean he will stop scooping me up at any moment?" she mused aloud, "…Most likely not."

Shaking her head Nessúlë slipped off the bed and used her new gift to walk carefully to the bathing room.

* * *

"Oloriel, you're positively amazing. I don't understand how you did it."

Nessúlë smiled over the baby in her arms, her eyes wide with unveiled wonder.

Oloriel, who was still abed chuckled softly and tried to readjust the pillow behind her back. "Of a truth, I was frightened half out of my wits. I'm not sure how I managed it myself."

When Oloriel had situated herself satisfactorily on the bed Nessúlë handed Arannon back to her. The new mother cradled her son eagerly against her breast. She was very content.

Nessúlë got up on the bed next to Oloriel and for a few moments the two _elleth_ sat in friendly silence. After several moments Oloriel was the first one to speak.

"How do you feel about Elrohir?"

Nessúlë blinked and drew back from her reverie. "I… I enjoy his attention…"

"And?"

"And… it feels so odd to say aloud."

Oloriel clucked her tongue lightly. "Come now, certainly you are not afraid to speak to me."

Nessúlë frowned. "I'm not frightened, I just… oh, very well." She readjusted her position and looked out the window. "I am drawn to him, I think."

"That's wonderful! Does he know?" Oloriel was grinning from ear to ear.

"Until I know that I love him I'm not going to tell him anything." Nessúlë spoke with resolve.

Oloriel cocked an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, is keeping you from loving him?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, what is it that you find unlovable about him?"

Nessúlë frowned. "Well, nothing really. Nothing that couldn't be overlooked if–"

"And you are affected by him? To you he seems attractive?"

"Yes," Nessúlë answered cautiously.

"And you have always considered him a good friend – one who was worthy of your trust, respect, and affection, and who could meet your intellect and appreciate your opinions?" Oloriel rocked the baby to sleep as she spoke, but her attention was now focused fully on Nessúlë.

"Yes."

"Then what more do you need to know?" Oloriel smiled knowingly. "You are drawn to him. I had seen this before you ran away."

Nessúlë winced slightly at the reference for she still felt rather ashamed by her behavior.

Oloriel softened her tone. "You are worried that the solid, sensible, resolve that you are known for has somehow been circumvented by your sudden captivation. But think on it, Nessúlë. Every practical argument stands in favor of the match. All that is left for you is to listen to what your heart says."

Nessúlë sat very still for several moments, looking fixedly at the polished wood floor. Her thoughts were running at a dizzying pace and she had to make a concerted effort to shove them away. Reasoning was no longer going to do her any good – Oloriel had just demolished the obstacle of logic. What then was left? What did she _want_?

"Where is he?" Nessúlë whispered quickly.

"He told me you could find him by the river."

* * *

"I could hear you coming," Elrohir commented nonchalantly as Nessúlë came up behind him.

He sat upon a green sward of grass beside the Bruinen, a book resting unopened beside him. Nessúlë stood several feet back, having just descended a narrow path from one of the gardens above.

"I am not so light on my feet as I once was," Nessúlë murmured with a slight quaver in her voice.

Elrohir, concerned by what that tremor might mean, began to turn his head toward her, but she stopped him.

"No! Don't turn around, please. I… um, I would like it better if you did not."

Reluctantly Elrohir obliged her. He wasn't sure what this encounter was leading up to and it made him rather nervous.

"Could you… could you, perhaps, close your eyes?" Nessúlë asked softly.

Elrohir nodded his head, closing his eyes to the bright world around him. He did not particularly like the sensation. Elves did not sleep with their eyes closed – they loved the light.

Slowly Nessúlë approached, her injured leg damaging the usual grace of her movements. Elrohir could hear her nearing him, coming to stand beside him. He had the strong desire to look up at her but kept his features controlled.

As Nessúlë sat down beside him, Elrohir instinctively held his hand out to steady her. He heard her soft chuckle.

"I am well," she whispered as she situated her injured leg before her on the grass.

Elrohir was about to reply when he felt a touch on his arm. Nessúlë leaned in and spoke close to his ear.

"You are always looking for an excuse to hold me. Would you do so now? I want to know something."

For a few moments the Elf did not move, uncertain of how to react. Then, very carefully, he positioned himself so that his bent right leg was behind her and circled his arms around her waist, pulling her snugly against his chest.

"Like this?" he asked quietly.

Nessúlë sighed and wrapped her right arm around his neck. "Yes."

With her face lying against Elrohir's chest Nessúlë took a few moments to simply enjoy the feeling of his arms around her. And there was no denying that she did enjoy it. She also realized then that there was no folly in such enjoyment. By yielding to his embrace she was bringing happiness to one of the best, most nobles Elves she had ever known.

'You're also bringing happiness to yourself,' her little voice whispered.

Suddenly Nessúlë remembered the day that they had spent up on the ridge, when she had accidentally ended up in Elrohir's arms. Even then there had been rebellious feelings stirring in her heart, telling her that this was where she belonged, with Elrohir.

"I belong with the wind," she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered her words from that day, "and I will revel in it."

As she said these words the entire world seemed to fall into place. She loved Elrohir. She had found where she belonged. No longer was she going to fight it or ignore it.

Elrohir's arms tensed. "You are leaving then?" he whispered hoarsely.

Nessúl's head flew up. "Oh no! No, Elrohir, I will never leave you. No. I am not the wind. But I will bend in the wind and dance with joy. Elrohir, I will bend to you – I want _you_. I know I am slow and dim-witted and stubborn, but I have finally come to know myself. I belong here, with you."

Before the poor Elf could recover his faculties Nessúlë leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips.

Elrohir's lungs faltered as he felt his love's supple lips pressed against his own. There was a part of his mind that was screaming at the unfairness of it all, telling him that this was only a taunting dream. But this part was soon drowned out as Nessúl's warm hand tilted his head to a more convenient angle.

Within moments Elrohir had abandoned all doubts and confusion, returning Nessúl's caress with eager desire. His hand wandered up her back, tangling with her hair as he directed her head in turn, gently tasting her mouth from various angles.

When Nessúlë finally broke the kiss for want of air Elrohir let his mouth slide back along her cheek, nuzzling beneath her ear and taking in the warm fragrance of her hair. Nessúlë shivered as his breath hit her ear and Elrohir's arms instinctively tightened around her, then loosened as he opened his eyes and the bright world flooded in.

Lowering his head to rest against Nessúl's shoulder, Elrohir closed his eyes once more and concentrated on taking steadying breaths.

"Do you love me?" he asked, laying a soft kiss on her neck even as he did so, as though to coax her into saying yes.

Nessúlë sighed contentedly into his hair. "Yes."

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Elrohir!" Nessúlë leant back and laughed, a blush rising up her cheeks. She tugged at the Elf's dark locks. "You're so silly; of course not now. The old ways are only used during times of darkness and uncertainty"", we can certainly wait to arrange a ceremony of some sort."

Elrohir looked into Nessúl's eyes in the most endearing manner he could manage.

"Tonight then? I want you to be a part of me as soon as possible."

Nessúlë smiled. "I am a part of you already, Elrohir… I also wish for our joining as soon as possible, but I would like my brother to be here. He is the only family I have left on these shores."

"Fair enough," Elrohir conceded, "fair enough. But I require a boon of you for such a concession."

Smiling gently, Nessúlë leaned in against Elrohir's chest. "And what is that, my dearest friend?"

"Promise never to run away when you're angry, even if it's to the next room. I'm sure I'll be a frustrating Elf to live with at times, but be patient with me."

Nessúlë sighed. "How much trouble I put you through. Am I worth it?"

Elrohir tilted Nessúl's chin up and placed a hungry kiss on her lips. "You are worth more than I shall ever be able to give."

"Than you may have your boon," Nessúlë replied quietly, "along with my heart."

* * *

1. No one has ever witnessed an Elven wedding ceremony. But it is known that some Elves simply have a "wedding night" ceremony. Since Elven marriage involves (as I know it) an actual binding of the souls it makes sense that two Elves wouldn't really need an officiator and witnesses to make their marriage official. If they agree to bind themselves to one another and seal it with a physical binding than it's done. However, I have also read that this practice would probably be most common during times when getting up a wedding ceremony just wasn't practical.

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "Elf knight"

Arannin (ah-RAHN-nin): "my noble gift"

elleth: "Elf (female)"


	14. Love

Disclaimer: see chapter one

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

"text" signals dialogue

'text' signals thoughts

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**A/N:** Everyone go read "Interrupted Journeys: Part One" by ellisk. If you're uneasy about very PG-13 content, there is some of that in the first chapter, but it actually has something to do with the plot and is not continued throughout the story. It's an extremely well done fic but hasn't gotten a lot of attention – so go review now!!!!

* * *

Chapter 14) Love  
  
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Come live with me, and be my love

Christopher Marlowe

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Recap: Yes! She finally admitted that she loved him! In case you never pay attention to the dates, it's been ten days since the last chapter.

Sept 13, 12 Fourth Age

Elrohir's eyes focused slowly as he woke up amid the blaze of the parting sun. A yawning fire stretched across the sky, licking at the tops of the trees and dancing in the water of the Bruinen. It was a brilliant sight. But Elrohir liked best how the golden flash of evening glowed across Nessúl's smooth skin and dark hair.

She lay next to him, with her head on his shoulder, still asleep. Elrohir's right arm was holding her against his side while his hand, woven with hers, rested on her stomach. For a few moments Elrohir watched in serene contentment as their hands were gently lifted up and down with each breath that Nessúlë took. The moment was perfect.

Unfortunately for the comfortable pair, the moment was also short.

"_Peredhel_, I would take it kindly if you removed your hands from my sister. We need to talk."

Elrohir shifted his head to the side, looking at the newly arrived Elf in confusion. He had heard footsteps approaching, but this had certainly not been the salutation he had expected.

"So you have arrived at last, Lantél," Elrohir replied guardedly, unsure of what was happening.

Nessúlë began to stir from her sleep. Lantél looked pointedly at Elrohir's hand until the older Elf acquiesced, drawing his hand from Nessúl's grasp and carefully lifting the she-Elf with him as he sat up.

"Your brother is here," Elrohir whispered to Nessúlë.

A smile crept across Nessúl's face as she stood to greet Lantél. "Well met indeed, _Gwador_ brother," she spoke joyfully, "Thank you for coming with such haste."

The siblings shared a long embrace as Elrohir push himself off of the warm grass and to his feet. He was still puzzling over Lantél's opening remark and wondering what would become of it.

"Where is Vírtuima?" Nessúlë inquired of her brother. "Certainly you did not leave her at home – not for my wedding?"

Lantél let a reserved smile flit across his lips. "No, surely not. She is waiting down the path. You should go and greet her. But I will stay, for I have something to say to your… betrothed."

Nessúl's brows furrowed. She paused for a moment. "Lantél, what is it?"

"Go to her," he whispered firmly.

A long-suffering sigh flowed from Nessúl's lips. "You are so odd at times. I _will_ go, because I wish to see my sister-in-law and because I know that, whatever addled scheme is in your head, Elrohir is quite valiant enough to oppose it without any of my aid. Be reasonable, Lantél."

Nessúlë patted Lantél's arm reassuringly and then walked passed him down the pathway. After going a few paces she turned her head back to grace Elrohir with one last inviting glance.

"Come to me when my brother is done with you," she called back, smiling.

Elrohir felt any apprehension he had concerning her brother slip away beneath Nessúl's smile. She, being the eldest child, was not subject to her brother's guidance. It wasn't as if Lantél could forbid him to marry her. Elrohir turned to face Lantél with a good deal of equanimity.

"We were always friends, Lantél," Elrohir began, "Why do you come here with such guarded eyes?"

Lantél shifted uncomfortably on his feet, but his eyes remained steady. "Since when does my sister love you?"

"I think that is a question you must pose to your sister," Elrohir countered gently. "All I know is that I have loved her for many years, and that I am most honored to be singled out for her affection and hand in marriage."

Lantél looked suspiciously at Elrohir. His eyes fell to the grass as he puzzled out how to say what was in his heart.

"I do not challenge your declaration of love, Elrohir. I know you are not one to toy with such things. Indeed, I could not help but notice your preference for my sister in times past, though she seemed thoroughly unaware of it. But I am concerned for my sister. She was never one to court with the young Elves in Mithlond. How can she know her own heart so quickly? When she left East Lorien I felt that her spirit was restless. In that light, I cannot help but think that this is a rash decision. Is there any assurance that you can give me?"

Elrohir took a long breath, letting it out slowly. "My only assurance is what I know of Nessúlë herself. She is not a foolish, flighty maiden, Lantél – you must know this. She is also very willful. I admit that I sought to woo her, but she could not have been claimed if she were not willing. Nor will she be swayed from her course. And for my part, as well as I am able, I will never allow her to regret the course she has chosen in accepting me as her husband. Will you not say yea to that?"

"Indeed," Lantél agreed finally, "Your intentions are open and honorable, I can see that, and if they bring my sister joy then I am for you."

"Shall we return to the ladies, then?" Elrohir inquired lightly.

With a nod from Lantél the two Elves turned of one accord to follow Nessúlë down the path. A comfortable silence settled between them and Elrohir smiled to himself, thinking that the encounter had been much simpler than it could have been. Just as he was thinking this Lantél laid a hand on Elrohir's shoulder and brought them both to a halt.

"What of Nessúl's pursuits?" Lantél questioned, as though the thought had just struck him. "I do not think she would be happy cloistered away in the gardens and halls."

"We have already spoken of it," Elrohir replied, "I am well aware of Nessúl's skills. She will not grow stale, my soon-to-be brother; at least, no more than I have as a reluctant bureaucrat." A wry smile flitted over Elrohir's face as he said this. "There will be sacrifices," he continued steadily, "but none that we will not share."

Lantél nodded. "Very well then. I think that is my last question. However, I will still speak with my sister."

"As is your right," was Elrohir's congenial reply.

As they began walking once more Lantél spoke again. "For what it is worth, aside from my reservation about the speed of this development, I couldn't wish for a better brother-in-law."

Elrohir simply smiled his thanks. The two Elves continued to wear very amiable expressions as they came upon their ladies, who were sitting on a large flat stone beside the path. Vírtuima stood first, happy to meet Elrohir, whom she had heard many good things about. Nessúlë then suggested that they go up to the Halls to make the proper round of introductions with the rest of the family, especially with the new child, Arannon.

Elrohir led the way, slipping Nessúl's arm through his own as she was walking beside him. Lantél watched the pair curiously, observing his sister in particular. Her bright, peaceful demeanor was itself enough to lift his heart considerably. But what pleased him most was when she forsook the dignified comfort of Elrohir's arm to twine it with the Elf lord's hand instead. It reminded him of when he had come upon them minutes before, lying peaceful and unguarded in the warmth of the setting sun. Perhaps all would be well.

* * *

"After the conversation I just had with Lantél, I think I can guess what he spoke with you about by the river."

Nessúlë spoke matter-of-factly as she stepped up behind Elrohir and laid her head against his back. A great sigh escaped her as she leaned into his warmth.

"What troubles you, love?" Elrohir inquired as he turned from the bookshelf he had been perusing to face Nessúlë and pull her into his arms. He had yet to grow used to such familiarity and it brought a smile to his face every time she allowed his boldness.

"In truth, I find it tiring to speak of you," Nessúlë commented, laying her head against his chest.

"Pardon?"

Nessúlë chuckled. "Well, over evening tea with the ladies, Vírtuima wanted a full account of all the _romantic_ details regarding my sudden betrothal. And afterward I found myself cornered by Lantél, who was determined to have a full account of my emotional journey over the last month in order to determine if I really loved you or not. And the poor darling looked so serious that I couldn't bear to let him down. He wanted to know how I fell in love, and when." She paused. "It's very hard to put into words really."

Elrohir was about to say something amusing when Nessúlë started speaking again.

"And then, to my greater fatigue, it struck me that perhaps _you_ didn't know why or how I loved you either, and so I spent many minutes fretting about what I should say to you before I found you here in the library. I admit that I'm still rather uncertain how to express it."

"Don't distress yourself," Elrohir whispered with a smile. "I'm just thrilled that you _do_ love me. The details can come later."

"No," Nessúlë declared adamantly, lifting her head up to look Elrohir straight in the eye. "I want you to know. I don't ever want you to think that I resigned myself to you. I want you to know how much I value your opinion and how you always make me feel better than however I was feeling before and how I love the way you laugh and how you always manage to blot up your letters with ink smudges." Nessúlë paused and a quick little smile darted across her face. "Well, that wasn't so hard after all, was it?"

Elrohir chuckled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her lips, and then another and another. He reached a hand up to pluck the large comb from her hair and then, dropping the comb on the floor, he let his hands sink into her freed tresses, pulling her forward so he could whisper against her ear.

"Your desire for me to know these things is a comfort in itself. But even if you never said a word, I would read the truth in your eyes. You are too open to live a clever lie."

Nessúlë smiled and tilted her head to the side, placing a kiss on Elrohir's jaw. "Thank you," she whispered back, "I shall take that as a compliment, I suppose."

Elrohir let his hands fall to Nessúl's waist. He leaned back against the bookshelf and pulled Nessúlë snuggly against himself. But his boldness ended there.

Smiling mischievously, Nessúlë traced the embroidered pattern on Elrohir's tunic and spoke: "It strikes me, son of Elrond, that you have not given me a truly proper kiss since our betrothal ten days ago. I hope that you will do better at our wedding tomorrow."

Elrohir started slightly, pushing Nessúlë away from him a bit to get a good look in her eyes.

"Tomorrow?"

"Aye," Nessúlë breathed happily. "That came up at the end of my conversation with Lantél. Would it please you to be married tomorrow evening?"

Without warning Elrohir picked Nessúlë up and spun her away from the tall shelving, laughing as he did so. When he finally put his future bride back on her feet beside a reading table she smiled up at him wryly.

"Is that a yes?"

Leaning his forehead against her own Elrohir replied, "I do believe it is."

"And now," Nessúlë began a little tentatively, "About that proper kiss. Don't you think we had better rehearse it once before we do it in front of the whole population of Imladris?"

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "There is a good reason why I restrain myself, love," he responded candidly.

"Yes, and after tonight, which I will spend one thin wall away from my sleeping brother, that good reason will completely disappear."

Elrohir chuckled at Nessúl's pleading look.

"If not a proper kiss, then at least a kiss goodnight?" Nessúlë inquired.

"That I will give you now," Elrohir responded, "And the other, you will certainly receive later."

And saying so, Elrohir leaned down to place another tender kiss on Nessúl's lips. In all truthfulness, the kiss probably lasted several moments longer than was necessary, but neither Elf seemed very disturbed by it. Soon, however, the two drew away from each other and bid silent goodnight and farewell with hands and eyes, both harboring in their hearts a joyful hope for the morrow.

* * *

Sept 14, 12 Fourth Age

Nessúl's brows furrowed slightly as her heartbeat seemed to speed up from its already frantic rate. She lowered her eyes and tried to take calming breaths. She was extremely grateful at that moment for the silvery veil that was covering her face, even if it had kept trying to come unpinned, for it seemed inappropriate to be seen in such a flustered state as she was being led to her wedding.

The ceremony had been arranged in accordance with the traditions of Nessúl's homeland, and she was now being led by all of the ladies in Imladris to the orchard in the forest where the vows were to be spoken.

'I can't get nervous now!' Nessúlë chided herself vehemently as her heart continued its staccato beat. 'This doesn't make any sense. I want to marry Elrohir. I _want_ to marry Elrohir.'

The mantra didn't appear to work, as a cloud of butterflies started flying about in her stomach.

'No,' she thought to herself, 'perhaps I am going about this wrong. I want to marry Elrohir… because I love him. I love him because he is my dearest friend and because he is courageous and good and kind and because his smile makes me smile.' Nessúlë was encouraged by the slow withdrawal of the butterflies. "I can't imagine living without Elrohir," she whispered, "My life will be good here. I will have a family here. I will be happy here."

Thankfully, her heartbeat started to respond to her persistent encouragement, slowing down its frenzied gallop. Unfortunately, her heart jumped right back into the race when and unexpected hand was laid on her shoulder.

"Talking yourself up to it?" Oloriel whispered cheerily in her ear.

Nessúlë turned toward her friend and glared daggers through the veil.

"Do not worry," Oloriel continued merrily, "the feeling will pass as soon as you see him."

As the married _elleth_ spoke the procession of she-Elves entered the orchard and began walking down the petal strewn path to the center of the fruit trees. Without thinking Nessúlë turned her eyes forward and was caught in Elrohir's gaze. He was still quite a distance away, but she could already feel the strength of his presence. He smiled involuntarily and Nessúlë was lost. She loved the way he smiled.

* * *

To Elrohir's very great disappointment he was not even given the chance to properly kiss Nessúlë at their wedding. Indeed, after their vows were spoken he and Nessúlë were barely afforded the luxury of a quick kiss before the male Elves of Imladris carried out the last part of the ceremony. With many whoops and cheers Nessúlë was whisked away from her new husband and placed on a flower-decked divan, which was then hoisted onto the shoulders of six trusty Elves. Elrohir himself was soon treated to the same accommodations, and with much music and dancing the newlyweds were carried off toward the nuptial chambers.

For a few moments Elrohir allowed his mind to turn toward petulant thoughts of being torn away from his bride, who was being carried several safe yards away from him, and he silently cursed the ridiculous western tradition. But he didn't allow his mood to be dampened for long. Nessúlë was quite beautiful, riding in her bower, and the celebration around him was actually rather infectious.

As he watched his new wife smile at the Elves around her Elrohir was struck once more by the magnitude of his good fortune. Nessúlë was now his wife! Before she had come to Imladris, never in his wildest imaginings had he believed that this day would actually come to be. And yet here he was – a married man.

Elrohir's reverie was rudely interrupted as a few boisterous and mischievous Elves tried to tip him from his perch. He struggled good-naturedly with them, stubbornly holding his seat as they continued to rock the wooden platform. From across the way he heard Nessúlë laugh and was sure that he presented quite an amusing sight. Looking up to catch her gaze he winked and let himself come off of his seat, hitting the ground on his feet and sprinting toward her aerial carriage. But he was not quick enough. With merry cruelty, several Elves caught him just as he was about to grasp the extended hand of his bride. With jeering and teasing all around Elrohir was carried away from Nessúlë and kept under strict guard until the procession reached its destination.

Thankfully, the march did not last much longer. As they neared the end of the journey, Elrohir glanced back up at Nessúlë and noticed that she had just realized where they were going. Or perhaps, more precisely, where they were not going, as their was a confused expression on her face. Undoubtedly she had assumed that they would be led back to Elrohir's own chambers. But instead they had gone deeper into the forest and were now approaching the _Anorlín_"" Sun Pool.

Elrohir continued to observe Nessúl's expression as they came in view of the miniature _talan_ that had been hastily constructed over the last nine days in one of the great trees beside the pool. It was a small structure, containing only one room. It was built around the bole of the tree, with a small winding staircase leading up to an entrance in the floor. The outside of the structure was accented with a smattering of simple Elven embellishments, from curling woodwork to a small, curtained balcony.

As Nessúlë stared in wonder at the sight Elrohir was finally allowed to approach her, offering his hand as she was lowered to the ground.

"What is this place?" Nessúlë whispered, taking Elrohir's proffered hand.

He smiled mysteriously. "You shall soon see."

As if on cue, Elladan and Oloriel stepped from the crowd and spoke a final blessing on the couple. Then, in a much more subdued manner, the well-wishers departed, leaving Elrohir and Nessúlë standing before the building.

Even as the crowd was departing, Elrohir tightened his hold on Nessúl's hand and led her toward the tree and up the staircase into the _talan_. What Nessúlë saw within warmed her heart. On one side of the trunk, in an odd scoop of wall, an elegant bed was set and on the other side, sitting on top of an intricately tooled rug, were two cushioned chairs and a small bookshelf occupied by several selections. A few trunks were tucked away in various nooks, presumably stocked with blankets, clothing, and other provisions.

"You had this place made for us?" was Nessúlë first incredulous comment.

Elrohir grinned. "It was at this pool that I first discovered you were not opposed to marriage, so I felt it was rather fitting… I will not be needed back for several days, and have arranged for food to be brought to us."

Nessúlë turned to her husband and could not help from laughing. "I find that you are an amazing creature," she stated frankly, shaking her head and continuing to chuckle.

"Why thank you, my wife," Elrohir murmured as he stepped around to face her and took her hands. "And now… for that proper kiss."

Nessúlë lowered her eyes involuntarily and blushed slightly. She wasn't quite so bold when standing next to her marriage bed as she had been the night before. With a smile Elrohir tilted her chin up and held her gaze for a few moments. Then, very slowly, he leaned his head toward her, letting his lips hover over her own until he could feel her impatience begin to grow.

The first touch of his lips was very gentle and searching, but it was not long before he became more insistent, letting his arms surround her, pulling her body flat against his own. Nessúlë responded readily, sliding her hands over his shoulders and up his neck to tangle in his hair. Thus encouraged, Elrohir teased her lips open and deepened the caress, holding the back of her head as he leaned into her. A slight gasp caught in Nessúl's throat but she did not draw back, submitting to Elrohir's guidance as he kissed her quite thoroughly.

But Nessúlë was not one to remain passive for long. Slowly and tenderly she raised her hands and traced the soft edges of Elrohir's ears, up to their sensitive tips. The Elf shuddered and drew suddenly away from Nessúlë, startled in his own right by her bold move and rather disoriented at the forces at work within him.

Smoothing Nessúl's hair with both his hands and gazing steadily at the flushed maiden, he tried to calm his rough breathing. Unfortunately, observing the decidedly warm glow in her eyes did not aid his endeavor. When he had finally succeeded in calming down enough to speak he managed only to smile and murmur, "I love you," before giving into desire and claiming her lips once more.

Nessúl's heart leapt at the words. And even though Elrohir did not give her the chance to reply, her heart continued to sing over and over, joyful and strong: "I love him. I love him."

* * *

As may be imagined, the life of Elrohir Peredhel and Nessúlë Ëarwen, Lord and Lady of Imladris, was never a boring affair. Their courtship was unorthodox, their wedding was hasty, their daily routine grew to involve morning sparring sessions, their children and grandchildren tended to be rather singular individuals, and until they departed Middle Earth, their honeymoon _talan_ continued to grow by the year and was their favorite place of refuge. Elrohir continued to write poetry, Nessúlë continued to pursue falconry. Every so often both of them could be seen amongst a gaggle of women helping to hang up laundry. And it has been speculated that, as late as the twentieth birthday of their second child, the couple continued to slip away on various harmless and amusing adventures.

While some of their arguments have become famous in the lore of those who lived in the valley, Elrohir and Nessúlë were both known to cool quickly and make up shortly thereafter. In this way their love continued to grow over the centuries and millennia that followed. Their romance was also known to thrive, and was even once praised in song by a highly regarded minstrel in the Blessed Realm. For though the passion of all Elves is dimmed with the ebbing of the years, there was never a week in which Elrohir did not leave a love letter, however short, somewhere in Nessúl's path and in which Nessúlë did not ask her husband for at least one very proper kiss.

THE END

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**A/N: **Yes, I will be writing more. Yes, I will be writing about Kallindo (for those of you who still can't get over what I did to him in "To Dream"). And yes, the first chapter of that story should be coming relatively soon (in a week?).

1.) Anorlín "Sunpool" – mentioned in chapter 5 

Things to Know:

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Elrohir: "elf knight"

Lantél: "falling star"

Vírtuima: "rose bud"

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

gwador: "brother"

elleth: "she-Elf"

talan: Elven treetop dwelling


End file.
